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WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


A.  NOVEL  OF  MODERN   POLAND. 


BY 


HENRYK   SIENKIEWICZ, 

AUTHOR  OF    "with    FIRE  AND    SWORD,"    '"THE  DELUQK," 

"quo  vadis,"  etc. 


TRANSLATED   FROM  THE  POLISH  BY 

IZA  YOUNG. 


"A  man  who  leaves  memoirs,  whether  well  or  badly  written,  proviiled 
they  be  sincere,  renders  a  service  to  future  psycliologists  and  writers 
giving  tiiem  not  only  a  faitiifui  picture  of  the  times,  but  likewise  huin-ui 
documents  that  can  be  relied  upon." 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1914 


Copyright,  189S, 
By  Little,  Bkown,  and  Comfant. 


^prfnteta 
S.  J,  Parkhill  <S  Co.,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


PUBLISHERS'   PREFACE. 


FN  "Without  Dogma'*  we  have  a  remarkable  work, 
•^  by  a  writer  known  only  in  this  country  through 
his  historical  novels ;  and  a  few  words  concerning  this 
novel  and  its  author  may  not  be  without  interest. 

Readers  of  Henryk  Sienkiewicz  in  America,  who 
have  known  him  only  through  Mr.  Curtin's  fine,  strong 
translations,  will  be  surprised  to  meet  with  a  produc- 
tion so  unlike  "  Fire  and  Sword,"  and  "  The  Deluge," 
that  on  first  reading  one  can  scarcely  believe  it  to  be 
from  the  pen  of  the  great  novelist. 

"  Fire  and  Sword,"  "  The  Deluge,"  and  "  Pan  Mi- 
chael "  (now  in  press)  form,  so  to  speak,  a  Polish 
trilogy.  They  are,  first  and  last,  Polish  in  sentiment, 
nationality,  and  patriotism.  What  Wagner  did  for 
Germany  in  music,  what  Dumas  did  for  France,  and 
Scott  for  all  English-speaking  people,  the  great  Pole 
has  achieved  for  his  own  country  in  literature.  Even 
to  those  most  unfamiliar  with  her  history,  it  grows 
life-like  and  real  as  it  speaks  to  us  from  the  pages  of 
these  historical  romances.  Only  a  very  great  genius 
can  unearth  the  dusty  chronicles  of  past  centuries, 
and  make  its  men  and  women  live  and  breathe, 
and  speak  to  us.  These  historical  characters  are  not 
mere  shadows,  puppets,  or  nullities,  but  very  real 
men  and  women,  our  own  flesh  and  blood. 


IT  PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE. 

His  warriors  fight,  love,  hate ;  they  embrace  each 
other ;  they  laugh ;  they  weep  in  each  other's  arms ; 
give  each  other  sage  counsels,  with  a  truly  Homeric 
simplicity.  They  are  deep-versed  in  stratagems  of 
love  and  war,  these  Poles  of  the  seventeenth  century ! 
They  have  their  Nestor,  their  Agamemnon,  their  great 
Achilles  sulking  in  his  tent.  Oddly  enough,  at  times 
they  grow  very  familiar  to  us,  and  in  spite  of  their 
Polish  titles  and  faces,  and  a  certain  tenderness  of 
nature  that  is  almost  feminine,  they  seem  to  have 
good,  stout,  Saxon  stuff  in  them.  Especially  where 
the  illustrious  knights  recount  their  heroic  deeds 
there  is  a  Falstaffian  strut  in  their  performance, 
and  there  runs  riot  a  Falstaffian  imagination  truly 
sublime. 

Yet,  be  it  observed,  however  much  in  all  this  is 
suggestive  of  the  literature  of  other  races  and  ages, 
these  characters  never  cease  for  a  moment  to  be 
Poles.  Here  is  a  vast,  moving  panorama  spread  be- 
fore us ;  across  it  pass  mighty  armies ;  hetman  and 
banneret  go  by ;  the  scene  is  full  of  stir,  life,  action. 
It  is  constantly  changing,  so  that  at  times  we  are 
almost  bewildered,  attempting  to  follow  the  quick 
succession  of  events.  We  are  transported  in  a  mo- 
ment from  the  din  and  uproar  of  a  beleaguered  town 
to  the  awful  solitude  of  the  vast  steppes,  —  yet  it  is 
always  the  Polish  Commonwealth  that  the  novelist 
paints  for  us,  and  beneath  every  other  music  rises  the 
wild  Slavic  music,  rude,  rhythmical,  and  sad. 

There  is,  too,  a  background  against  which  these 
pictures  paint  themselves,  and  it  reminds  us  not  a 
little  of  Verestchagin,  —  the  same  deep  feeling  for 
nature,  and  a  certain  sadness  that  seems  inseparable 


PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE.  V 

from  the  Russian  and  Lithuanian  temperaments,  tears 
following  closely  upon  mirth.  At  times,  after  inci- 
dent upon  incident  of  war,  the  reader  is  tempted  to 
exclaim,  "  Something  too  much  of  this ! "  Yet  no- 
where, perhaps,  except  from  the  great  canvases  of 
Yerestchagin,  has  there  ever  come  a  more  awful,  pow- 
erful plea  for  peace  than  from  the  pages  of  "  Fire  and 
Sword." 

In  "Without  Dogma"  is  presented  quite  another 
theme,  treated  in  a  fashion  strikingly  different.  In 
the  historical  novels  the  stage  is  crowded  with  per- 
sonages. In  "  Without  Dogma,"  the  chief  interest 
centres  in  a  single  character.  This  is  not  a  battle 
between  contending  armies,  but  the  greater  conflict 
that  goes  on  in  silence,  —  the  battle  of  a  man  for 
his  own  soul. 

He  can  scarcely  be  considered  an  heroic  character  ; 
he  is  to  some  extent  the  creature  of  circumstances, 
the  fine  product  of  a  higlily  complex  culture  and  civil- 
ization. He  regards  himself  as  a  nineteenth-century 
Hamlet,  and  for  him  not  merely  the  times,  but  his 
race  and  all  mankind,  are  out  of  joint.  He  is  not 
especially  Polish  save  by  birth ;  he  is  as  little  at 
home  in  Paris  or  at  Rome  as  in  Warsaw.  Set  him 
down  in  any  quarter  of  the  globe  and  he  would  be 
equally  out  of  place.  He  folds  the  mantle  of  his  pes- 
simism about  him.  Life  has  interested  him  purely 
as  a  spectacle,  in  which  he  plays  no  part  save  a  purely 
passive  one.  His  relation  to  life  is  that  of  the  Greek 
chorus,  passing  across  the  stage,  crying  "Woe,  woe!" 

Life  has  interested,  entertained,  and  sometimes 
wearied  him.  He  muses,  philosophizes,  utters  the 
most  profound  observations  upon  life,  art,  and  the 


vi  PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE. 

mystery  of  things.  He  puts  mankind  and  himself 
upon  the  dissecting-table. 

Here  is  a  nature  so  sensitive  that  it  photographs 
every  impression,  an  artistic  temperament,  a  highly 
endowed  organism  ;  yet  it  produces  nothing.  The  se- 
cret of  this  unproductiveness  lies  perhaps  in  a  cer- 
tain tendency  to  analyze  and  philosophize  away  every 
strong  emotion  that  should  lead  to  action.  Here  is  a 
man  in  possession  of  two  distinct  selves,  —  the  one 
emotional,  active ;  the  other  eternally  occupied  in 
self-contemplation,  judgment,  and  criticism.  The  one 
paralyzes  the  other.  He  defines  himself  as  "  a  genius 
without  a  portfolio,"  just  as  there  are  certain  minis- 
ters-of-state  without  portfolios. 

In  such  a  character  many  of  us  will  find  just  enough 
of  ourselves  to  make  its  weaknesses  distasteful  to  us. 
We  resent,  just  because  we  recognize  the  truth  of  the 
picture.  Leon  Ploszowski  belongs  unmistakably  to 
our  own  times.  His  doubts  and  his  dilettanteism  are 
our  own.  His  fine  aesthetic  sense,  his  pessimism,  his 
self-probings,  his  weariness,  his  overstrung  nerves, 
his  whole  philosophy  of  negation,  —  these  are  quali- 
ties belonging  to  this  century,  the  outcome  of  our 
own  age  and  culture. 

If  this  were  all  the  book  offers  us  one  might  well 
wonder  why  it  was  written.  But  its  real  interest  cen- 
tres in  the  moment  when  the  cultivated  pessimist 
"  without  dogma "  discovers  that  the  strongest  and 
most  genuine  emotion  of  his  life  is  its  love  for  an- 
other man's  wife.  It  is  an  old  theme ;  certainly  two 
thirds  of  our  modern  French  novels  deal  with  it ;  we 
know  exactly  how  the  conventional,  respectable  Brit- 
ish novel  would  handle  it.     But  here  is  a  treatment, 


PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE.  vii 

bold,  original,  and  unconventional.  The  character  of 
the  woman  stands  out  in  splendid  contrast  to  the  man's. 
Its  simplicity,  strength,  truth,  and  faith  are  the  anti- 
dote for  his  doubt  and  weakness.  Her  very  weakness 
becomes  her  strength.     Her  dogmatism  saves  him. 

The  background  of  the  book,  its  lesser  incidents, 
are  thoroughly  artistic,  its  ending  masterly  in  its 
brevity  and  pathos;  here  again  is  the  distinguishing 
mark  of  genius,  the  power  of  condensation.  Tlie  man 
who  has  philosophized  and  speculated  now  writes  the 
tragedy  of  his  life  in  four  words :  "  Aniela  died  this 
morning."  This  is  the  culmination  towards  which 
his  whole  life  has  been  moving ;  the  rest  is  foregone 
conclusion,  and  matters  but  little. 

One  sees  throughout  the  book  the  strong  influence 
that  other  minds,  Shakespeare  notably,  have  produced 
upon  this  mind ;  here  its  attitude  is  never  merely  pes- 
simistic. It  does  not  criticise  them,  it  has  absorbed 
them. 

One  last  word  concerning  this  novel.  It  does  not 
seek  to  formulate,  or  to  preach  directly.  Its  chief 
value  and  the  keynote  to  its  motive  lie  in  the  words 
that  Sienkiewicz  at  the  beginning  puts  into  the  mouth 
of  his  hero :  — 

"A  man  who  leaves  memoirs,  whether  well  or 
badly  written,  provided  they  be  sincere,  renders  a 
service  to  future  psychologists  and  writers,  giving 
them  not  only  a  faithful  picture,  but  likewise  human 
documents  that  may  be  relied  upon." 

A  human  document  —  the  modern  novel  is  this, 
when  it  is  anything  at  all.  If  Mr.  Crawford's  canons 
of  literary  art  are  true,  and  we  believe  they  are,  they 
give  us  a  standard  by  which  to  judge;  he  tells  us 


viii  PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE. 

that  the  heart  in  each  man  and  woman  means  the 
whole  body  of  innate  and  inherited  instincts,  im- 
pulses, and  beliefs,  which,  when  quiescent,  we  call 
Self,  when  roused  to  emotional  activity,  we  call  Heart. 
It  is  to  this  self,  or  heart,  he  observes,  that  whatever 
is  permanent  in  the  novel  must  appeal ;  and  whatever 
does  so  must  live  and  find  a  hearing  with  humanity 
"  so  long  as  humanity  is  human."  If  this  be  a  test, 
we  cannot  doubt  as  to  what  will  be  the  reception  of 
"Without  Dogma." 

A  few  words  concerning  the  novelist  himself.  The 
facts  obtainable  are  of  the  most  meagre  kind.  He 
was  born  in  1845,  in  Lithuania.  The  country  itself, 
its  natural  and  strongly  religious  and  political  influ- 
ences, its  melancholy,  seem  to  have  left  their  strong, 
lasting  impression  upon  him.  He  has  a  passionate 
fondness  for  the  Lithuanian,  and  paints  him  and  his 
surroundings  most  lovingly. 

His  student  days  were  spent  at  Warsaw.  He  de- 
voted himself  afterward  to  literature,  writing  at  first 
under  a  pseudonym.  He  does  not  seem  to  have  won 
immediate  recognition.  He  spent  some  years  in  Cali- 
fornia ;  a  series  of  articles  published  in  this  connec- 
tion in  a  Polish  paper  brought  him  into  notice. 

In  1880,  various  novelettes  and  sketches  of  his  pro- 
duction were  published  in  three  volumes. 

In  1884  were  given  to  the  Polish  public  the  three 
historical  novels  which  immediately  gave  their  author 
the  foremost  place  in  Polish  literature.  It  is  a  mat- 
ter of  pride  that  the  first  translation  of  these  great 
works  into  English  is  the  work  of  an  American,  and 
offered  to  the  American  public. 

He  is  a  prolific  writer,  and  it  would  be  impossible 


PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE.  '      ix 

to  attempt  to  give  even  the  names  of  all  his  minor 
sketches  and  romances.  Some  of  them  have  been 
translated  into  German,  but  much  has  been  lost  in 
the  translation. 

Sienkiewicz  is  still  a  contributor  to  journalistic  lit- 
erature. He  has  travelled  much,  and  is  a  citizen  of 
the  world.  He  is  equally  at  home  in  the  Orient  or 
the  West,  by  the  banks  of  the  Dnieper,  or  beside  the 
Nile.  Probably  there  is  scarcely  a  corner  of  Poland 
that  he  has  not  explored.  He  depicts  no  type  of  life 
that  has  not  actually  come  under  his  own  observation. 
The  various  social  strata  of  his  own  country,  the  con- 
dition of  its  peasantry,  the  marked  contrast  between 
the  simplicity  of  that  life  and  the  culture  of  the  ec- 
clesiastic and  aristocratic  bodies,  the  religious,  poetic, 
artistic  temperament  of  the  people,  —  all  these  he 
paints  in  a  life-like  fashion,  but  always  as  an  artist. 

So  much  of  the  writer.  Of  the  man  Sienkiewicz 
there  is  little  to  be  obtained.  Like  all  great  creative 
geniuses,  he  is  so  completely  identified  with  his  work 
that  even  while  his  personality  lives  in  his  creations 
it  eludes  them.  He  offers  us  no  confidences  concern- 
ing himself,  no  opinions  or  prejudices.  He  does  not 
divert  the  reader  with  personalities.  He  sets  before 
us  certain  groups  of  men  and  women,  whom  certainly 
he  knows  and  loves,  and  has  lived  among.  He  sets 
them  in  motion ;  they  become  living,  breathing  crea- 
tions ;  they  assume  relations  in  time  and  space ; 
they  speak  and  act  for  themselves.  If  there  be  a 
prompter  he  remains  always  behind  the  scenes.  Ad- 
mire Or  criticise  or  love  the  actors  as  you  will,  you 
cannot  for  a  moment  doubt  that  they  are  alive. 

This  is  the  supreme  miracle  of  genius,  —  the  fine 


X  PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE. 

union  of  dramatic  instinct,  the  aesthetic  sense,  and  an 
intense,  vital  realism ;  not  the  realism  of  the  cess- 
pool or  the  morgue,  but  the  realism  of  the  earth  and 
sky,  and  of  healthy  human  nature.  We  are  inclined 
to  believe  that  Henryk  Sienkiewicz  has  answered  an 
often  discussed  question  that  has  much  exercised  the 
keenly  critical  intellect  of  this  age.  One  school  of 
thought  cries  out,  "  Let  us  have  life  as  it  is.  Paint 
anything,  but  draw  it  as  it  is.  Let  the  final  test  of 
all  literary  works  be, '  Is  it  real  and  true  ? ' " 

To  the  romantic  school  quite  another  class  of  ideas 
appeals  ;  to  it  much  of  the  so-called  realistic  litera- 
ture seems  very  bad,  or  merely  "  weary,  stale,  flat, 
and  unprofitable."  The  profoundest  utterances  of 
realism  do  not  impress  it  much  in  themselves.  It 
insists  that  art  has  something  to  say  to  literature, 
that  in  this  field  as  elsewhere  holds  good  the  law 
of  natural  selection  of  types  and  survival  of  the 
fittest. 

While  each  school  has  its  down-sittings  and  up- 
risings, its  supporters  and  its  critics,  neither  school 
has  yet  exhausted  the  possibilities  of  literature.  The 
novel's  aim  is  to  depict  Life,  and  life  is  neither  all  ro- 
mance nor  all  realism,  but  a  curious  mixture  of  both. 
Man  is  neither  a  beast  nor  a  celestial  being,  but  a 
compound.  Though  he  can  crawl,  and  may  have 
clinging  to  him  certain  brute  instincts  that  may  be 
the  relics  of  his  anthropoidal  days,  he  has  also,  thank 
God,  divine  desires  and  discontents,  and  certain  rudi- 
mentary wings.  And  neither  school  alone  is  compe- 
tent to  paint  him  as  he  is.  The  author  of  "  La  Bete 
Humaine"  fails  as  completely  as  the  visionary  A 
Kempis.     Neither  realism  nor  romance  alone  will 


PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE.  Xl 

ever  with  its  small  plummet  sound  to  its  depths 
the  human  heart  or  its  mystery ;  yet  from  the  union 
of  the  two  much  perhaps  might  come. 

We  believe  that  just  here  lies  the  value  of  the 
novels  of  Henryk  Sienkiewicz.  He  has  worked  out 
the  problem  of  the  modern  novel  so  as  to  satisfy  the 
most  ardent  realist,  but  he  has  worked  it  out  upon 
great  and  broadly  human  lines.  For  him  facts  arc 
facts  indeed ;  but  facts  have  souls  as  well  as  bodies. 
His  genius  is  analytic,  but  also  imaginative  and  con- 
structive ;  it  is  not  forever  going  upon  botanizing 
excursions.     He  paints  things  and  thoughts  human. 

The  greatest  genius  assimilates  unconsciously  the 
best  with  which  it  comes  in  contact,  and  by  a  sub- 
tle chemistry  of  its  own  makes  new  combinations. 
Shakespeare,  Dante,  Goethe,  and  the  realists,  as  well 
as  all  the  forces  of  nature,  have  helped  to  make 
Henryk  Sienkiewicz  ;  yet  he  is  not  any  one  of  them. 
He  is  never  merely  imitative.  Originality  and 
imaginative  fire,  a  style  vivid  and  strong,  large  hu- 
mor, a  profound  pathos,  a  strong  feeling  for  nature, 
and  a  deep  reverence  for  the  forms  and  the  spirit 
of  religion,  the  breath  of  the  true  cosmopolitan 
united  with  the  intense  patriotism  of  the  Pole,  a 
great  creative  genius,  —  these  are  the  most  striking 
qualities  of  the*  work  of  this  modern  novelist,  who 
has  married  Komance  to  Realism. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


Rome,  9  January. 

(Some  months  ago  I  met  my  old  friend  and  school-fellow, 
Jozef  Sniatynski,  who  for  the  last  few  years  has  occu- 
pied a  prominent  place  among  our  literary  men.  In  a 
discussion  about  literature  Sniatynski  spoke  about  diaries. 
He  said  that  a  man  who  leaves  memoirs,  whether  well 
or  badly  written,  provided  they  be  sincere,  renders  a  ser- 
vice to  future  psychologists  and  writers,  giving  them  not 
only  a  faithful  picture  of  the  times,  but  likewise  human 
documents  that  can  be  relied  upon.  He  seemed  to  think 
that  most  likely  the  novel  of  the  future  would  take  the 
form  of  diary ;  finally  he  asserted  that  anybody  who 
keeps  a  diary  works  for  the  common  good,  and  does  a 
meritorious  thing. 

I  am  thirty-five,  and  do  not  remember  ever  having 
done  anything  for  my  country,  for  the  reason,  maybe,  that 
after  leaving  the  University,  my  life,  with  slight  inter- 
vals, was  spent  abroad.  This  fact,  so  lightly  touched 
upon,  has  given  me,  in  spite  of  all  my  scepticism,  many 
a  bitter  pang ;  therefore  I  resolved  to  follow  my  friend's 
advice.  If  this  indeed  means  work,  with  some  kind  of 
merit  in  it,  I  will  try  to  be  of  some  use  in  this  way. 

I  intend  to  be  perfectly  sincere.  I  enter  upon  the 
task,  not  only  because  of  the  above-mentioned  reasons, 
but  also  because  the  idea  pleases  me.  Sniatynski  says 
that  if  a  man  gets  accustomed  to  put  down  his  thoughts 
and  impressions  it  becomes  gradually  one  of  the  most 
delightful  occupations  of  his  life.  If  it  should  prove 
the  contrary,  then  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  my  diary;  it 

1 


2  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

would  snap  asunder  like  a  string  too  tightly  drawn.  I 
am  ready  to  do  much  for  my  community ;  but  to  bore 
myself  for  its  sake,  oh,  no !  I  could  not  do  it. 

Nevertheless,  I  am  resolved  not  to  be  discouraged  by 
first  difficulties,  and  shall  give  it  a  fair  trial.  "  Do  not 
adopt  any  style ;  do  not  write  from  a  literary  point  of 
view,"  says  Sniatynski.  Easier  said  than  done.  I  fully 
understand  that  the  greater  the  writer,  the  less  he  writes 
in  a  purely  literary  style  ;  but  I  am  a  dilettante,  and  have 
no  command  over  any  style.  I  know  from  experience 
that  to  one  who  thinks  much  and  feels  deeply,  it  often 
seems  that  he  has  only  to  jjut  down  his  thoughts  and 
feelings  in  order  to  produce  something  altogether  out 
of  the  common ;  yet  as  soon  as  he  sets  to  work  he  falls 
into  a  certain  mannerism  of  style  and  common  phrase- 
ology ;  his  thoughts  do  not  come  spontaneously,  and  one 
might  almost  say  that  it  is  not  the  mind  that  directs  the 
pen,  but  the  pen  leads  the  mind  into  common,  empty  arti- 
ficiality. I  am  afraid  of  this  for  myself,  for  if  I  am 
wanting  in  eloquence,  literary  simplicity,  or  picturesque- 
uess,  I  am  not  wanting  in  good  taste,  and  my  own  style 
might  become  distasteful  to  myself,  and  thereby  render 
my  task  impossible.  But  this  I  shall  see  later  on.  I 
begin  my  diary  with  a  short  introductory  autobiography. 

My  name  is  Leon  Ploszowski,  and  I  am,  as  I  said  before, 
thirty-five  years  of  age.  I  come  from  a  wealthy  family 
which  has  been  able  to  preserve  its  fortune.  As  to  my- 
self I  shall  not  increase  it,  and  at  the  same  time  I  am 
not  likely  to  squander  it.  My  position  is  such  that  there 
is  no  necessity  for  me  to  enter  into  competition  with 
struggling  humanity.  As  to  expensive  and  ruinous  pleas- 
ures, I  am  a  sceptic  who  knows  how  much  they  are  worth, 
or  rather,  knows  that  they  are  not  worth  anything. 

My  mother  died  a  week  after  I  was  born.  My  father, 
who  loved  her  more  than  his  life,  became  affected  with 
melancholia.  Even  after  he  recovered  from  this,  at 
Vienna,  he  did  not  wish  to  return  to  his  estates,  as  the 
memories  associated  with  them  rent  his  very  soul  j  he  left 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  8 

Ploszow  under  the  care  of  Lis  sister,  my  aunt,  and  betook 
himself  in  the  year  1848  to  Rome,  which,  during  thirty- 
odd  years,  he  never  left  once,  so  as  to  be  near  my  mother's 
tomb.  I  forgot  to  mention  that  he  brought  her  remains 
to  Eome,  and  buried  her  on  the  Campo  Santo. 

We  have  our  own  house  on  the  Babuino,  called  Casa 
Osoria,  from  our  coat  of  arms.  It  looks  more  like  a 
museum  than  anything  else,  as  my  father  possesses  no 
mean  collections,  especially  from  the  early  Christian 
times.  In  these  collections  his  whole  life  is  now  ab- 
sorbed. As  a  young  man,  he  was  very  brilliant  in  appear- 
ance as  well  as  in  mind ;  his  wealth  and  name  added  to 
this,  all  roads  were  open  to  him,  and  consequently  great 
things  were  expected  from  him.  I  know  this  from  his 
fellow-students  at  Berlin.  He  was  deeply  absorbed  in 
the  study  of  philosophy,  and  it  was  generally  believed 
his  name  would  rank  with  such  as  Cieszkowski,  Libelt, 
and  others.  Society,  and  his  being  a  favorite  in  female 
circles,  diverted  him  somewhat  from  scientific  studies. 
In  society  he  was  known  by  the  nickname  of  "  Leon 
I'Invincible."  In  spite  of  his  social  success  he  did  not 
neglect  his  philosophical  researches,  and  everybody  ex- 
pected that  some  day  he  would  electrify  the  world  with 
a  great  work,  and  make  his  name  illustrious.  They 
were  disappointed  in  their  expectations. 

Of  the  once  so  beautiful  appearance  there  still  remains 
up  to  this  day  one  of  the  finest  and  noblest  heads.  Artists 
are  of  the  same  opinion,  and  not  long  ago  one  of  them  re- 
marked that  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more  perfect 
type  of  a  patrician  head.  As  to  his  scientific  career,  my 
father  is  and  remains  a  cultured  and  gifted  nobleman- 
dilettante.  I  almost  believe  dilettantism  to  be  the  fate  of 
all  Ploszowskis,  to  which  I  will  refer  later  on,  when  I 
come  to  write  about  myself.  As  to  my  father,  there  is  in 
his  desk  a  yellow  manuscript  about  Triplicity  in  Nature. 
I  perused  it,  and  it  did  not  interest  me.  I  only  remember 
a  comparison  between  the  transcendental  belief  of  Chris- 
tianity in  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 


4  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

the  natural  triplicity  of  oxygen,  hydrogen,  and  ozone, 
with  many  other  analogous  triplicities  from  absolute 
truth,  goodness,  and  beauty,  to  the  syllogism  of  the 
minor  premise,  the  major  premise,  and  the  conclu- 
sion, —  a  quaint  mixture  of  Hegel  and  Hoene- Wroński, 
and  utterly  useless.  I  am  quite  convinced  that  my 
father  did  not  intend  to  have  it  published,  if  only  for 
the  reason  that  speculative  philosophy  had  failed  in 
him  even  before  it  was  set  aside  by  the  world.  The 
reason  for  this  failure  was  the  death  of  my  mother. 
My  father,  who  in  spite  of  his  nickname,  "Leon  I'ln- 
vincible,"  and  reputation  of  conqueror  of  hearts,  was  a 
man  of  deep  feelings  and  simply  worshipped  my  mother, 
put  many  terrible  questions  to  his  philosophy,  and  not 
obtaining  either  answer  or  comfort,  recognized  its  utter 
emptiness  in  the  presence  of  a  great  sorrow.  This  must 
have  been  an  awful  tragedy  of  his  life,  since  it  almost 
shattered  its  foundations,  —  the  brain  and  heart.  His 
mind  became  affected,  as  I  said  before,  and  when  he 
recovered  he  went  back  to  his  religious  convictions.  I 
was  told  that  at  one  time  he  prayed  night  and  day,  knelt 
down  in  the  street  when  he  passed  a  church,  and  was 
carried  away  by  his  religious  fervor  to  such  an  extent 
that  he  was  looked  upon  by  some  as  a  madman,  by  others 
as  a  saint.  It  was  evident  he  found  more  consolation  in 
this  than  in  his  philosophical  triplicities,  for  he  gradually 
calmed  down  and  began  to  lead  a  more  rational  life.  His 
heart,  with  all  his  power  for  affection,  turned  towards 
me,  and  his  aesthetic  bent  found  employment  in  the  study 
of  early  Christianity.  The  lofty,  restless  mind  wanted 
nourishment.  After  his  first  year  in  Rome  he  took  up 
archaeology,  and  by  dint  of  hard  study  acquired  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  antique. 

Father  Calvi,  my  first  tutor  and  at  the  same  time  a 
great  judge  of  Roman  antiquities,  gave  him  the  final 
impulse  towards  investigation  of  the  Eternal  City.  Some 
fifteen  years  ago  my  father  became  acquainted  and  sub- 
sequently on  terms  of  friendship  with  the  great  Eossi; 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  6 

in  whose  company  he  spent  whole  days  in  the  cata- 
combs. Thanks  to  his  extraordinary  gifts  he  soon 
acquired  such  consummate  knowledge  of  Eome  as  to 
astonish  Eossi  himself.  Several  times  he  began  writ- 
ing treatises  on  the  subject,  but  never  finished  what  he 
had  begun.  Maybe  the  completion  of  his  collections 
took  up  too  much  of  his  time,  but  most  likely  the  reason 
he  will  not  leave  anything  behind  him  except  his  collec- 
tions is  that  he  did  not  confine  himself  to  one  epoch  or 
any  specialty  in  his  researches.  Gradually  mediaeval 
Eome  began  to  fascinate  him  as  much  as  the  first  era 
of  Christianity.  There  was  a  time  when  his  mind  was 
full  of  Orsiuis  and  Colonnas ;  after  that  he  approached 
the  Eenaissance,  and  was  fairly  captivated  by  it.  From 
inscriptions,  tombs,  and  the  first  traces  of  Christian  ar- 
chitecture he  passed  to  nearer  times ;  from  the  Byzantine 
paintings  to  Fiesole  and  Giotto,  from  these  to  artists  of 
the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  and  so  on  ;  he  fell 
in  love  with  statues  and  pictures  ;  his  collections  cer- 
tainly increased,  but  the  great  work  in  Polish  about  the 
three  Eomes  remained  forever  in  the  land  of  unfulfilled 
intentions. 

As  to  these  collections  my  father  has  a  singular  idea. 
He  wants  to  bequeath  them  to  Eome  under  the  condition 
they  should  be  placed  in  a  separate  gallery  named  after 
him,  "  Museum  Osoria  Ploszowski."  Of  course  his  wishes 
will  be  respected.  I  only  wonder  why  my  father  believes 
that  in  doing  this  he  will  be  more  useful  to  his  commu- 
nity than  by  sending  them  to  his  own  country. 

Not  long  ago  he  said  to  me :  "  You  perceive  that 
scarcely  anybody  there  would  see  them,  and  very  few 
derive  any  benefit,  whereas  here  the  whole  world  can 
study  them,  and  every  individual  that  benefits  thereby 
carries  the  benefit  to  other  communities."  It  does  not 
befit  me  to  analyze  how  much  family  pride  and  the 
thought  of  having  his  name  engraved  in  marble  in  the 
Eternal  City  has  to  do  with  the  whole  scheme.  I  almost 
think  that  such  must  be  the  case.    As  to  myself,  I  aip 


b  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

perfectly  indifferent  where  the  collections  are  to  remain. 
But  my  aunt,  to  whom  by  the  bye  I  am  shortly  going  to 
pay  a  visit  at  Warsaw,  is  very  indignant  at  the  idea  of 
leaving  the  collections  out  of  the  country,  and  as,  with  her, 
thought  and  speech  go  always  together,  she  expresses 
her  indignation  in  every  letter.  Some  years  ago  she  was 
at  Home,  and  they  wrangled  every  day  over  the  matter, 
and  would  have  quarrelled  outright  had  not  the  affection 
she  has  towards  me  subdued  her  temper. 

My  aunt  is  older  than  my  father  by  several  years. 
When  my  father,  after  his  great  sorrow,  left  the  country, 
he  gave  up  the  Ploszow  estate  to  her,  and  took  instead 
the  ready  capital.  My  aunt  has  managed  the  property 
for  thirty  years,  and  manages  it  perfectly.  She  is  of  a 
rather  uncommon  character,  therefore  I  will  devote  to 
her  a  few  lines.  At  the  age  of  twenty  she  was  betrothed 
to  a  young  man  who  died  in  exile  just  when  my  aunt  was 
about  to  follow  him  abroad.  From  that  time  forth  she 
refused  all  offers  of  marriage  and  remained  an  old  maid. 
After  my  mother's  death  she  went  with  my  father  to 
Vienna  and  Rome,  where  she  lived  with  him,  surround- 
ing him  with  the  tenderest  affections,  which  she  subse- 
quently transferred  to  me.  She  is,  in  the  full  meaning 
of  the  word,  une  grandę  dame,  somewhat  of  an  autocrat, 
haughty  and  outspoken,  with  that  self-possession  wealth 
and  a  high  position  give,  but  withal  the  very  essence  of 
goodness  and  kindliness.  Under  the  cover  of  abrupt 
manners  she  has  an  excellent  and  lenient  disposition, 
loving  not  only  her  own  family,  as  for  instance  my  father 
and  myself  and  her  own  household,  but  mankind  in 
general.  She  is  so  virtuous  that  really  I  do  not  know 
whether  there  be  any  merit  in  it,  as  she  could  not  be 
otherwise  if  she  tried.  Her  charities  are  proverbial. 
She  orders  poor  people  about  like  a  constable,  and  tends 
them  like  a  Saint  Vincent  de  Paul.  She  is  very  religious. 
No  doubts  whatever  assail  her  mind.  What  she  does, 
she  does  from  unshaken  principles,  and  therefore  never 
hesitates  in  the  choice  of  ways  and  means.     Therefore 


WITHOUT  DOG^LA..  7 

she  is  always  at  peace  with  herself  and  very  happy.  At 
Warsaw  they  call  my  aunt,  on  account  of  her  abrupt 
manners,  le  bourreau  hienfaisant.  Some  people,  espe- 
cially among  women,  dislike  her,  but  generally  speaking 
she  lives  in  peace  with  all  classes. 

Ploszow  is  not  far  from  Warsaw,  where  my  aunt  owns 
a  house  in  which  she  spends  the  winter.  Every  winter 
she  tries  to  inveigle  me  there  in  the  hope  to  see  me  mar- 
ried. Even  now  I  received  a  mysteriously  worded  mis- 
sive adjuring  me  to  come  at  once.  I  shall  have  to  go,  as 
I  have  not  seen  her  for  some  time.  She  writes  that  she  is 
getting  old  and  wishes  to  see  me  before  she  dies.  I  con- 
fess I  do  not  always  feel  inclined  to  go.  I  know  that 
my  aunt's  dearest  wish  is  to  see  me  married,  therefore 
every  visit  brings  her  a  cruel  disappointment.  The 
very  idea  of  such  a  decisive  step  frightens  me.  To  be- 
gin a  new  life  when  I  am  so  tired  of  the  old  one !  Finally, 
there  is  another  vexatious  element  in  my  relations  with 
my  aunt.  As  formerly  my  father's  friends  looked  upon 
him  as  a  genius,  so  she  persists  in  regarding  me  as  one 
exceptionally  gifted,  from  whom  great  things  are  to  be 
expected.  To  allow  her  to  remain  of  this  opinion  seems 
an  abuse  of  her  good  faith ;  to  tell  her  that  nothing  is  to 
be  expected  from  me  would  be  a  more  likely  conclusion, 
but  at  the  same  time  inflict  upon  the  dear  old  lady  a  cruel 
blow. 

To  my  misfortune  many  of  those  near  me  share  my 
aunt's  opinion,  and  this  brings  me  to  the  point  of  draw- 
ing a  sketch  of  my  own  character,  which  is  by  no  means 
an  easy  task,  as  my  nature  is  rather  a  complicated  one. 

I  brought  with  me  into  the  world  very  sensitive  nerves, 
nerves  perfected  by  the  culture  of  generations.  During 
the  first  years  of  my  childhood  I  remained  under  the  care 
of  ray  aunt ;  after  her  departure,  according  to  the  custom 
of  our  country,  a  nursery  governess  was  engaged  for  me. 
As  we  lived  in  Rome,  among  foreign  surroundings,  and 
my  father  wished  me  to  be  well  grounded  in  my  own 
language,  he  engaged  a  Polish  governess.    She  is  still 


"8  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

with  us  as  housekeeper  at  Babuino.  My  father  also 
bestowed  some  pains  upon  me,  especially  after  my  fifth 
year.  I  used  to  go  to  his  room  to  talk  with  him,  and 
this  developed  my  mind  prodigiously,  too  much  so  per- 
haps for  my  age.  Later  on,  when  his  studies  and  arclise- 
ologic  researches  took  up  his  whole  time,  he  engaged  a 
tutor.  Father  Calvi.  This  was  an  old  man,  with  a  mind 
and  faith  exceedingly  serene.  He  loved  art  beyond  every- 
thing. I  believe  religion  even  reacted  upon  him  through 
its  beauty.  In  the  galleries  before  the  old  masters,  or 
listening  to  the  music  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  he  lost  him- 
self altogether.  There  was  nothing  pagan  in  these  feel- 
ings, as  they  were  not  based  upon  sybaritism  or  sensual 
enjoyment.  Father  Calvi  loved  art  with  the  pure,  serene 
feeling  as  maybe  a  Da  Fiesole,  a  Cimabue,  or  Giotto  loved 
it.  And  he  loved  in  all  humility,  as  he  himself  had  no 
gifts  that  way.  I  could  not  say  which  of  the  fine  arts  he 
loved  best,  but  I  believe  he  leaned  mostly  towards  har- 
mony, which  responded  to  the  harmony  of  his  own  mind. 

Whenever  I  think  of  Father  Calvi,  I  am  reminded  at 
the  same  time  of  the  old  man  that  stands  beside  Raphael's 
Saint  Cecilia  listening  intently  to  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

Between  my  father  and  the  priest  sprang  up  a  friend- 
ship which  lasted  unto  the  latter's  death.  It  was  he 
who  confirmed  my  father  in  his  archseologic  researches, 
especially  about  Rome.  There  was  another  bond  be- 
tween these  two,  —  their  love  for  me.  Both  considered 
me  as  an  exceptionally  gifted  child,  and  of  a  God  knows 
what  promising  future.  It  strikes  me  at  times  that  I 
formed  for  them  a  kind  of  harmony,  —  a  rounding  of  and 
completion  to  the  world  in  which  they  lived ;  and  they 
ioved  me  with  the  same  absorbing  passion  with  which 
they  loved  Rome  and  its  antiquities.  Such  an  atmosphere, 
such  surroundings,  could  not  fail  to  impress  my  mind. 
I  was  brought  up  in  an  original  way.  With  my  tutor, 
—  sometimes  with  my  father,  —  I  visited  galleries,  mu- 
seums, villas,  ruins,  catacombs,  and  the  environs  of  Rome. 
Father  Calvi  was  equally  sensitive  to  the  beauties  of  na- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  9 

ture  and  to  those  of  art,  and  taught  me  at  an  early  age  to 
understand  poetic  melancholy.  The  Roman  Campagna, 
the  harmony  of  the  arch-line  on  the  sky  of  the  arches  in 
the  ruined  aqueducts,  the  fine  tracery  of  the  pines,  —  I 
understood  all  this  before  I  could  read  or  had  mastered 
the  first  rudiments  of  arithmetic.  I  was  able  to  set 
English  tourists  right  to  whom  the  names  of  Carracci 
and  Caravaggio  caused  confusion.  I  learned  Latin  early 
and  without  effort,  from  being  familiar  with  the  Italian 
language.  I  gave  my  opinion  about  Italian  and  foreign 
masters,  —  which,  however  unsophisticated,  made  both 
my  father  and  my  tutor  look  at  each  other  in  astonish- 
ment. I  did  not  like  Ribera,  —  there  was  too  great  a 
contrast  of  color  in  his  pictures,  and  he  frightened  me  a 
little  ;  but  I  liked  Carlo  Dolce.  In  short,  my  tutor,  my 
father,  and  his  friends  considered  me  a  very  prodigy  ;  I 
heard  myself  praised,  and  it  flattered  my  vanity.  But, 
all  the  same,  it  was  not  the  healthiest  of  educations ; 
and  my  nervous  system,  developed  too  early,  always 
remained  very  sensitive.  It  seems  strange  that  these 
influences  were  neither  so  deep  nor  so  lasting  as  might 
have  been  expected.  That  I  did  not  become  an  artist 
is  owing,  may  be,  to  a  lack  of  gifts  that  way,  —  although 
my  drawing  and  music  masters  opined  differently  ;  but 
how  was  it  that  neither  my  father  nor  the  priest  was 
able  to  imbue  me  with  that  love  of  art  for  art's  sake  ? 
Have  I  a  feeling  for  art  ?  Yes.  Is  art  a  necessity  of 
my  life  ?  Yes,  again.  But  they  loved  it ;  I  only  feel  it 
as  a  dilettante  ;  it  is  a  necessity  in  so  far  as  it  comple- 
ments every  kind  of  pleasant  and  delightful  sensation. 
It  is  one  of  my  delights,  but  not  an  all-absorbing  passion ; 
I  should  not  like  to  live  without  it,  but  could  not  devote 
my  whole  life  to  it. 

As  the  schools  at  Rome  left  much  to  be  desired,  my 
father  sent  me  to  a  college  in  Metz,  where  I  carried 
off  honors  and  prizes  with  very  little  effort.  A  year 
before  the  last  term,  I  ran  away  to  join  Don  Carlos,  and 
with  Tristan's  detachment  wandered  for  some  time  about 


1.0  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

the  Pyrenees ;  until  my  father,  with  the  help  of  the  con- 
sul in  Burgos,  found  me,  and  I  was  sent  back  to  Metz  to 
be  duly  punished.  The  penalty  was  not  a  heavy  one,  as 
my  father  and  the  teachers  were  secretly  proud  of  my 
escapade.  A  brilliant  success  at  the  examinations  quickly 
earned  me  a  full  absolution. 

Among  my  schoolfellows,  whose  sympathies  were  nat- 
urally with  Don  Carlos,  I  henceforth  passed  as  a  hero ; 
and  as  I  was  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  foremost 
pupils,  my  position  as  the  first  at  school  was  beyond 
dispute.  I  was  growing  up  with  the  conviction  that 
later  on,  in  a  larger  sphere,  it  would  be  the  same.  This 
opinion  was  shared  by  my  teachers  and  schoolfellows ; 
and  yet  the  fact  is  that  many  of  my  schoolfellows  who 
at  one  time  would  not  have  dreamed  of  competing  with 
me,  occupy  to-day  in  France  high  places  in  literary, 
scientific,  and  political  spheres ;  whereas  I,  had  I  to 
choose  a  profession,  should  feel  considerably  perplexed. 
My  social  position  is  excellent.  I  possess  independent 
means  from  my  mother's  side,  shall  inherit  my  father's 
fortune  in  time  to  come,  and  administer  the  Ploszow  es- 
tate more  or  less  wisely,  as  the  case  may  be  ;  but  the  very 
limitation  of  the  work  excludes  all  hope  of  distinguish- 
ing myself  in  life,  or  playing  any  prominent  part  in  it. 

I  shall  never  be  a  great  administrator  or  agriculturist ; 
for  though  I  do  not  mean  to  shirk  my  duties,  I  could 
not  devote  my  whole  life  to  them,  —  for  the  simple  rea- 
son that  my  aspirations  aim  much  higher.  Sometimes  I 
ask  myself  whether  we  Ploszowskis  do  not  delude  our- 
selves as  to  our  abilities.  But  if  such  were  the  case,  the 
delusion  would  be  only  personal ;  other  people,  stran- 
gers, could  not  be  deceived  in  the  same  way.  Besides, 
I  know  that  my  father  is  an  extraordinarily  gifted  man. 
As  to  myself,  I  will  not  enter  more  fully  on  the  subject, 
as  it  might  appear  mere  boastfulness ;  nevertheless  I 
have  the  conviction  that  I  could  be  something  infinitely 
greater   than  I  am. 

For  instance,  at  Warsaw   (my  father  and   my  aunt 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  11 

wished  me  to  enter  the  university  there)  Sniatynski  and 
I  were  fellow-students.  We  both  were  drawn  towards 
literature,  and  tried  our  hand  at  it,  I  do  not  say  I  was 
looked  upon  as  the  more  gifted  of  the  two,  but  the  truth 
is  that  my  work  then  was  considered  better  and  more 
promising  than  Sniatynski's.  Sniatynski  has  for  some 
years  past  occupied  a  prominent  position  in  literature, 
and  I  am  still  the  greatly  promising  Pan  Ploszowski,  of 
whom  here  and  there  people  are  wont  to  say:  "If  he 
would  only  take  up  something ! " 

Ah  !  there  is  the  rub,  —  "  if  he  would ! "  But  they  do 
not  seem  to  take  it  into  account  that  one  has  to  know 
how  to  will.  I  thought  sometimes  that  if  I  had  no 
means  of  subsistence  I  should  have  to  work.  Certainly 
I  should  have  to  do  something  in  order  to  earn  my 
bread  ;  but  even  then  I  am  jfirmly  convinced  I  should 
not  derive  the  twentieth  part  of  advantage  from  my 
capacities.  Besides,  such  men  as  Darwin  or  Buckle 
were  rich ;  Sir  John  Lubbock  is  a  banker ;  most  of  the 
known  men  in  France  are  in  easy  circumstances.  This 
proves  that  wealth  is  not  a  liindrance,  bxit  rather  a  help 
towards  attaining  a  proper  standing  in  the  chosen  field 
of  labor.  I  confess  that,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it 
has  done  me  some  service,  as  it  preserved  my  character 
from  many  a  crookedness  poverty  might  have  exposed 
it  ^;o.  I  lo  not  mean  by  this  that  I  have  a  weak  charac- 
ter, —  although  struggle  for  existence  might  have  made 
it  stronger ;  but  still  I  maintain  that  the  less  stony 
the  road,  the  less  chance  of  a  fall.  It  is  not  owing  to 
constitutional  laziness,  either,  that  I  am  a  nullity.  I 
possess  alike  a  great  facility  for  acquiring  knowledge, 
and  a  desire  for  it ;  I  read  much,  and  have  a  good  mem- 
ory. Perhaps  I  could  not  summon  energy  enough  for  a 
long,  slow  work,  but  the  greater  facility  ought  to  serve 
instead ;  and  besides,  there  is  no  urgent  necessity  for 
me  to  write  encyclopedias,  like  Littre.  He  who  cannot 
shine  with  the  steady  light  of  a  sun  might  at  least  dazzle 
as  a  meteor.     But  oh  !  that  nothingness  of  the  past,  — • 


12  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

the  most  probable  nothingness  of  the  future  !  1  am 
growing  peevish  —  and  tired  j  and  will  leave  off  writing 
for  to-day. 

Rome,  10  January. 
Last  night,  at  Count  Malatesta's  reception,  I  heard 
by  chance  these  two  words:  *' I'improductivite  Slave." 
I  experienced  the  same  relief  as  does  a  nervous  patient 
when  the  physician  tells  him  that  his  symptoms  are  com. 
mon  enough,  and  that  many  others  suffer  from  the  same 
disease.  I  have  many  fellow-sufferers,  not  only  among 
other  Slavs,  a  race  which  I  know  but  imperfectly,  but  in 
my  own  country.  I  thought  about  that  "  improductivite 
Slave  "  all  night.  He  had  his  wits  about  him  who  summed 
the  thing  up  in  two  words.  There  is  something  in  us,  — 
an  incapacity  to  give  forth  all  that  is  in  us.  One  might 
say,  God  has  given  us  bow  and  arrow,  but  refused  us  the 
power  to  string  the  bow  and  send  the  arrow  straight  to 
its  aim.  I  should  like  to  discuss  it  with  my  father,  but 
am  afraid  to  touch  a  sore  point.  Instead  of  this,  I  will 
discuss  it  with  my  diary.  Perhaps  it  will  be  just  the 
thing  to  give  it  any  value.  Besides,  what  can  be  more 
natural  than  to  write  about  what  interests  me  ?  Every- 
body carries  within  him  his  tragedy.  Mine  is  this  same 
"  improductivite  slave "  of  the  Ploszowskis.  Not  long 
ago,  when  romanticism  flourished  in  hearts  and  poetry, 
everybody  carried  his  tragedy  dra.ped  around  him  as  a 
picturesque  cloak ;  now  it  is  carried  still,  but  as  a 
jaegervest  next  to  the  skin.  But  with  a  diary  it  is 
different',   with  a  diary  one  may  be  sincere. 


Rome,  11  January. 
The  few  days  which  remain  to  me  before  my  depar- 
ture I  will  use  in  retrospects  of  the  past,  until  I  come  to 
note  down  day  after  day  the  events  of  my  present  life. 
As  I  said  before,  I   do  not  intend  to  write  an  auto- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA,  13 

biography ;  who  and  what  I  am,  my  future  life  will 
show  sufficiently.  I  should  not  like  to  enter  into  mi- 
nute details  of  the  past,  —  it  is  a  kind  of  adding  num- 
ber to  number,  and  a  summing  up.  I  always  hated  the 
four  rules  of  arithmetic,  and  especially  the  first.  But  I 
want  to  have  a  general  idea  of  the  total,  so  as  to  have  a 
clearer  view  of  myself.  Therefore  I  go  on  with  the 
mere  outline. 

After  having  finished  my  studies  at  the  university  I 
went  to  an  agricultural  school  in  France.  The  work 
there  was  easy  enough,  but  it  had  no  special  attraction 
for  me.  I  did  it  as  one  who  knows  that  this  special 
branch  of  knowledge  will  be  useful  to  him,  but  at  the 
same  time  feels  that  he  lowers  himself  to  it  and  that  it 
does  not  respond  either  to  his  ambition  or  his  faculties. 
I  derived  a  twofold  gain  from  my  sojourn  there.  Agri- 
culture became  to  me  familiar  enough  to  protect  me  from 
being  cheated  by  any  agents  or  bailiffs,  and  it  strength- 
ened my  frame  so  that  it  could  withstand  the  life  I  later 
on  led  in  Paris. 

The  years  following  I  spent  either  in  Eome  or  in  Paris, 
not  to  mention  short  stays  at  Warsaw,  where  my  aunt 
summoned  me  now  and  then  in  order  to  introduce  me  to 
some  special  favorite  of  hers  with  a  view  to  matrimony. 

Paris  and  its  life  attracted  me  greatly.  With  the  truly 
excellent  opinion  I  had  then  of  myself,  with  more 
confidence  in  my  intelligence  and  the  self-possession  an 
independent  position  gives,  I  still  played  a  very  unso- 
phisticated part  on  this  scene  of  the  world.  I  began  by 
falling  desperately  in  love  with  Mademoiselle  Eichem- 
berg  of  the  Comedie  Francaise,  and  absolutely  insisted 
upon  marrying  her.  I  will  not  dwell  now  upon  the  many 
tragicomic  imbroglios,  as  I  am  partly  ashamed  of  those 
times,  and  partly  inclined  to  laugh  at  them.  Still  later 
on  it  happened  that  I  took  counterfeits  for  pure  gold. 
The  French  women,  and  for  the  matter  of  that,  my  own 
countrywomen,  of  whatever  class  and  in  spite  of  all  their 
v^irtues  when  young,  remind  me  of  my  fencing  lessons. 


14  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

As  the  fencer  has  his  hour  of  practice  with  the  foils  so 
as  to  keep  his  hand  in,  so  women  practise  with  senti- 
mental foils.  As  a  mere  youth,  fairly  good  looking,  I 
was  sometimes  invited  to  a  passage  of  arms,  and  as  I 
took  the  matter  seriously,  received  many  a  scratch. 
They  were  not  mortal  wounds  and  healed  quickly.  Be- 
sides, everybody  has  to  pay  for  his  apprenticeship  in 
this  world,  especially  in  a  world  like  that.  My  time  of 
probation  was,  comparatively  speaking,  a  short  one. 
Then  came  a  period  one  might  call  ''la  revanche,"  I 
paid  back  in  the  same  coin,  and  if  now  and  then  I  was 
still  taken  in,  it  was  with  my  eyes  open  to  the  fact. 

Myself  of  a  good  social  standing,  I  came  to  know  all 
shades  of  society,  from  the  old  legitimist  circles,  where  I 
was  not  a  little  bored,  to  the  new  aristocracy  created  by 
the  Bonapartes  and  the  Orleanists,  representing  the  so- 
ciety, perhaps  not  of  Paris,  but  let  us  say,  of  Nice.  Dumas 
the  Younger,  Sardou,  and  others,  take  thence  their  counts, 
marquises,  and  princes,  who,  without  historical  traditions, 
have  titles  and  money  in  plenty,  and  whose  principal  aim 
is  to  enjoy  life.  I  frequented  their  salons  mostly  for 
the  sake  of  their  female  element.  They  are  very  subtle, 
the  women  there,  with  highly  strung  nerves  always  in 
search  for  new  pleasures,  fresh  sensations,  and  truly  void 
of  any  idealism.  They  are  often  as  corrupt  as  the  novels 
they  are  reading,  because  their  morality  finds  no  support 
either  in  religion  or  tradition.  But  it  is  a  brilliant  world 
all  the  same.  The  hours  of  practice  with  the  foils  are 
so  long  there  that  they  look  more  like  days  and  nights, 
and  the  weapons  are  dangerous  sometimes,  as  they  are 
not  blunted.  There  too  I  received  a  few  painful  lessons 
until  I  got  my  hand  in.  It  would  be  a  sign  of  mere 
vanity  and  still  more  of  bad  taste  to  write  about  my  suc- 
cesses, and  I  will  only  say  this,  that  I  tried  to  keep  alive 
the  tradition  of  my  father's  youth. 

The  lowest  circles  of  this  world  slightly  merge  into 
the  higher  sphere  of  the  great  demi-monde.  This  demi- 
monde is  far  more  dangerous  than  appears  on  the  surface 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  15 

because  it  is  not  in  the  least  commonplace.  Its  cyni- 
cism has  a  certain  air  of  refinement  and  art.  If  I  did 
not  leave  many  feathers  there  it  must  be  because  my 
beak  had  acquired  a  certain  curve  and  my  claws  had 
grown.  Generally  speaking  of  the  life  in  Paris,  a  man 
who  has  passed  through  that  mill  feels  rather  exhausted, 
and  what  then  of  such  as  I,  who  leave  only  to  go  back 
again  ?  It  is  only  later  on  in  life  we  begin  to  understand 
that  triumphs  like  these  are  somewhat  like  the  victories 
of  Pyrrhus.  My  naturally  strong  constitution  withstood 
this  life,  but  my  nerves  are  somewhat  shattered. 

Paris,  though,  possesses  one  superiority  over  other 
centres  of  civilization.  I  do  not  know  of  any  other  city 
in  the  world  where  the  elements  of  art,  science,  and  all 
kinds  of  human  ideas  seem  to  float  in  the  air  to  be  as- 
similated by  the  human  brain.  Almost  unconsciously  it 
imbibes  not  only  the  newest  ideas  in  the  sphere  of  intel- 
lect, but  also  loses  some  of  its  onesidedness,  broadens 
out,  becomes  more  civilized.  I  say  again,  civilized,  be- 
cause in  Italy,  Germany,  and  Poland,  I  met  with  brains 
and  powerful  brains  too,  but  who  would  not  recognize 
any  light  but  their  own,  so  onesided  and  barbarian  that 
for  one  who  did  not  want  to  sacrifice  his  own  opinions, 
intercourse  from  an  intellectual  point  of  view  was  simply 
impossible. 

In  France  and  still  more  in  Paris,  similar  manifesta- 
tions have  no  existence.  As  a  running  stream  smoothes 
and  polishes  the  pebbles,  rubbing  them  against  each 
other,  so  the  swift  current  of  life  rubs  off  the  angles 
from  the  human  mind.  It  is  obvious  that  under  such 
influences  my  mind  became  that  of  a  civilized  being,  that 
can  make  due  allowance  for  other  people's  opinions ;  I 
do  not  utter  peacock  cries  when  I  hear  of  anything  op- 
posed to  my  views  or  something  utterly  new.  It  may 
be  that  such  leniency  and  tolerance  of  all  opinions  leads 
finally  to  indifferentism  and  weakens  the  active  principle 
in  the  human  mind,  but  I  could  not  be  different  now. 

A  certain  mental  current  got  hold  of  me  and  carried 


16  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

me  along.  If  the  social  circles,  salons,  boudoirs,  and 
clubs  took  up  a  considerable  part  of  my  time,  they  did 
not  occupy  it  altogether.  I  made  many  acquaintances 
in  the  literary  and  artistic  world,  and  lived  their  life,  or 
rather  I  live  it  still.  Prompted  by  innate  curiosity  I 
read  very  much,  and  as  I  have  the  faculty  of  assimilating 
what  I  read,  I  may  say  that  I  derived  considerable  bene- 
fit from  it  and  am  able  to  keep  step  with  every  intellec- 
tual movement  of  the  time. 

My  consciousness  of  self  is  highly  developed.  At 
times  I  feel  inclined  to  send  that  second  self  to  the  devil, 
that  self  which  does  not  permit  yielding  to  any  sensation, 
but  is  always  there,  searching,  criticising  every  action,feel- 
ing,  delight,  or  passion.  "  Know  thyself  "  may  be  a  wise 
maxim,  but  to  carry  about  one's  self  an  ever  watchful  critic 
deadens  the  feeling,  dividing  as  it  were  your  soul  in  two 
parts.  To  exist  in  a  state  of  mind  like  this  is  about  as 
easy  as  for  the  bird  to  fly  with  one  wing.  Besides,  self- 
consciousness  too  much  developed  weakens  the  power  of 
action.  But  for  this,  Hamlet  would  have  made  a  hole 
in  his  uncle  in  the  first  act,  and  with  the  greatest  com- 
posure taken  possession  of  the  throne. 

As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  sometimes  protects  me  or 
saves  me  from  heedless  slips,  yet  more  often  tires  me,  pre- 
venting absolute  concentration  upon  one  point  of  action. 
I  carry  within  me  two  beings,  —  the  one  that  protests 
and  criticises,  the  other  leading  only  half  a  life,  losing 
gradually  all  power  of  decision.  I  am  afraid  I  shall 
never  free  myself  from  that  yoke  ;  on  the  contrary,  the 
more  my  mind  expands,  the  more  minute  will  be  the 
knowledge  of  self,  and  even  on  my  deathbed  I  shall 
not  leave  off  criticising  the  dying  Ploszowski  unless 
disease  has  fogged  my  brain. 

I  must  have  inherited  from  my  father  a  synthetic 
mind,  because  I  always  try  to  generalize  matters,  and 
for  that  reason  science  attracts  me  more  than  philos- 
ophy. In  my  father's  time  philosophy  embraced  no  more 
nor  less  than  the  whole  universe  and  all  being;    con- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  17 

sequently  it  had  a  ready  answer  for  all  questions.  In 
our  times  it  has  become  rational  in  so  far  as  to  confess 
that  it  has  ceased  to  exist  in  the  old  meaning  of  the 
word,  and  remains  only  as  a  philosophy  of  special  scien- 
tific branches.  Truly,  when  I  come  to  think  of  it  it 
seems  that  the  human  mind  too  has  its  tragedies,  and  it 
began  by  confessing  its  own  powerlessness.  As  I  write 
a  personal  diary  I  will  treat  these  matters  from  a  per- 
sonal point  of  view.  I  am  not  a  professed  philosopher, 
because  I  am  nothing  by  profession ;  but  as  a  thinking 
being  I  am  interested  in  the  new  philosophic  movement } 
I  have  been  and  am  under  its  influence,  and  have  a  full 
right  to  speak  about  what  entered  the  composition,  and 
contributed  to  the  creation,  of  my  moral  and  intellectual 
being. 

To  begin  with,  I  note  down  that  my  religious  belief 
I  carried  still  intact  with  me  from  Metz  did  not  with- 
stand the  study  of  natural  philosophy.  It  does  not  fol- 
low that  I  am  an  atheist.  Oh,  no  !  This  was  good  enough 
in  former  times,  when  he  who  did  not  believe  in  spirit, 
said  to  himself,  ''  flatter,"  and  that  settled  for  him 
the  question.  Nowadays  only  provincial  philosophers 
cling  to  that  worn-out  creed.  Philosophy  of  our  times 
does  not  pronounce  upon  the  matter ;  to  all  such  ques- 
tions it  says,  "  I  do  not  know  ! "  and  that  "  I  do  not  know  " 
sinks  into  and  permeates  the  mind.  Nowadays  psychol- 
ogy occupies  itself  with  close  analysis  and  researches  of 
spiritual  manifestations  ;  but  when  questioned  upon  the 
immortality  of  the  soul  it  says  the  same,  —  "I  do  not 
know ; "  and  truly  it  does  not  know,  and  it  cannot 
know.  And  now  it  will  be  easier  to  describe  the  state 
of  my  mind.  It  all  lies  in  these  words  :  I  do  not  know. 
In  this  —  in  the  acknowledged  impotence  of  the  human 
mind  —  lies  the  tragedy.  Not  to  mention  the  fact  that 
humanity  always  has  asked,  and  always  will  ask,  for  an 
answer,  they  are  truly  questions  of  more  importance  than 
anything  else  in  the  world.  If  there  be  something  on  the 
other  side,  and  that  something  an  eternal  life,  then  mis- 


18  WITHOUT  DOGMA- 

fortunes  and  losses  on  this  side  are  as  nothing.  In  this 
case  we  might  exclaim  with  Hamlet :  "  Nay,  then,  let  the 
devil  wear  black,  for  I  '11  have  a  suit  of  sables." 

"  I  am  content  to  die,"  says  Renan ;  "  but  I  should  like 
to  know  whether  death  will  be  of  any  use  to  me." 
And  philosophy  replies,  "  I  do  not  know." 
And  man  beats  against  that  blank  wall,  and  like  the 
bedridden  sufferer  fancies,  if  he  could  lie  on  this  or  on 
that  side,  he  would  feel  easier.  What  is  to  be  done  ? 
Are  we  to  abuse  philosophy  that,  instead  of  building  up 
new  systems  which,  like  a  house  of  cards,  fall  at  a  touch, 
it  has  confessed  its  impotence,  and  begun  to  search  for 
and  classify  manifestations  within  reach  of  the  human 
intellect  ?  Methinks  that  I  and  everybody  else  has  a 
right  to  say  :  "  Philosophy,  I  am  struck  by  your  common 
sense,  admire  your  close  analysis  ;  but  with  all  that,  you 
have  made  me  supremely  wretched.  By  your  own  con- 
fession you  have  no  answer  for  a  question,  to  me  of  the 
greatest  importance,  and  yet  you  had  power  enough  to 
destroy  that  faith  which  not  only  cleared  up  all  doubts, 
but  soothed  and  comforted  the  soul.  And  do  not  say 
that,  since  you  do  not  lay  down  the  law,  you  permit 
me  to  adhere  to  my  old  beliefs.  It  is  not  true  !  Your 
method,  your  soul,  your  very  essence  is  doubt  and  criti- 
cism. This,  your  scientific  method,  this  scepticism,  this 
criticism  you  have  implanted  in  the  soul  till  they  have 
become  a  second  nature.  As  with  lunar  caustic,  you  have 
deadened  the  spiritual  nerves  by  the  help  of  which  one 
believes  simply  and  without  question,  so  that  even  if  I 
would  believe  I  have  lost  the  power.  You  permit  me  to 
go  to  church  if  I  like ;  but  you  have  poisoned  me  with 
scepticism  to  such  a  degree  that  I  have  grown  sceptical 
even  with  regard  to  you,  —  sceptical  in  regard  to  my  own 
scepticism ;  and  I  do  not  know,  I  do  not  know.  I  torture 
myself,  and  am  maddened  by  the  darkness." 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  19 

Rome,  12  January. 

Yesterday  I  allowed  myself  to  be  carried  away  by  my 
writing.  But  all  the  same  it  seems  to  me  that  I  laid  a 
finger  upon  the  rottenness  of  my  soul  and  that  of  hu- 
manity. There  are  times  when  I  am  indifferent  to  these 
questions ;  then  again  they  seem  to  tear  at  me  without 
mercy ;  all  the  more  as  those  are  matters  kept  within 
the  privacy  of  the  soul.  It  would  be  better  to  put  them 
aside ;  but  they  are  too  important  for  that.  We  want 
to  know  what  we  are  to  expect,  and  arrange  our  life  ac- 
cordingly. I  have  tried  to  say  to  myself :  "  Stop,  you 
will  never  leave  that  enchanted  circle ;  why  enter  it  at 
all  ? "  I  have  every  qualification  to  render  myself  a 
well-satisfied,  cheerful  animal ;  but  I  cannot  always  be 
satisfied  with  that.  It  is  said  the  Slav  temperament  has 
a  tendency  towards  mysticism.  I  have  noticed  that  our 
greatest  writers  and  poets  end  by  becoming  mystics.  It  is 
not  surprising  that  lesser  minds  should  be  now  and  then 
troubled.  As  to  myself  I  feel  obliged  to  take  notice  of 
those  inward  struggles  in  order  to  get  a  faithful  image 
of  myself.  Perhaps  I  feel  also  the  want  of  justifying 
myself  before  my  own  conscience.  For  instance,  with 
the  great  "  I  do  not  know  "  before  me,  I  still  observe  the 
regulations  of  the  Church  ;  yet  do  not  consider  myself  a 
hypocrite.  This  would  be  the  case  if,  instead  of  the  "  I 
do  not  know,"  I  could  say  "  I  know  there  is  nothing." 
But  our  scepticism  is  not  an  open  negation  ;  it  is  rather 
a  sorrowful,  anxious  suspicion  that  perhaps  there  is 
nothing,  —  a  dense  fog  around  our  minds  that  stifles  the 
breath  and  hides  from  us  the  light.  I  therefore  stretch 
out  my  hands  towards  that  sun  that  maybe  shines  be- 
yond the  mist.  I  fancy  that  not  I  alone  am  in  that  posi- 
tion, and  that  of  all  those  who  go  to  church  and  mass 
on  Sundays  the  prayers  might  be  condensed  in  these 
words  :  "  0  God  !  lift  the  mist !  " 

I  cannot  write  coldly  or  dispassionately  about  all  this. 
I  keep  religious  observances  for  the  simple  reason  that  1 


20  Without  dogma. 

long  to  believe,  and  since  the  sweet  teaching  of  my 
childhood  tells  me  that  faith  is  a  gift  of  grace,  I  am 
waiting  for  that  grace.  I  am  waiting  that  it  may  be 
given  unto  me ;  that  my  soul  may  believe  unquestion- 
ingly,  even  as  it  believed  in  childhood.  Those  are  my 
motives ;  no  self-interest  prompts  me ;  it  would  be  much 
easier  to  be  a  cheerful,  contented  animal.  Since  I  am 
justifying  my  outward  semblance  of  piety,  I  have  some 
other  less  noble  and  more  practical  reasons.  From  the 
days  of  my  childhood  I  have  been  accustomed  to  keep 
certain  rules,  and  they  have  grown  into  a  habit.  Henry 
the  Fourth  said  Paris  was  Avell  worth  a  mass  ;  so  say  I 
that  the  peace  of  those  nearest  is  worth  a  mass ;  people 
of  my  class,  as  a  rule,  observe  religious  prescriptions, 
and  I  should  protest  against  the  outward  symbols  only 
in  such  a  case  if  I  could  find  something  more  conclusive 
to  say  than  "  I  do  not  know."  I  go  to  church  because  I 
am  a  sceptic  in  regard  to  my  own  scepticism.  It  is  not 
a  comfortable  feeling,  and  my  soul  drags  one  wing  along 
the  earth.  But  it  would  be  much  worse  with  me  if  I 
always  pondered  over  these  questions  so  earnestly  as  I 
have  done  while  writing  these  last  pages.  Fortunately  for 
me  this  is  not  the  case.  I  have  mentioned  already  that  at 
times  I  am  indifferent  to  them.  Life  carries  me  along, 
and  although  in  the  main  I  know  what  to  think  of  its 
hollow  pleasures,  I  give  myself  up  to  it  altogether,  and 
then  the  moral  "  to  be,  or  not  to  be  "  has  no  meaning  for 
me.  A  strange  thing,  about  the  power  of  which  not 
much  has  been  said,  is  the  influence  of  social  suggestion 
on  the  mind.  In  Paris,  for  instance,  I  feel  happier  not 
only  because  the  continual  mill  deafens  me,  —  I  am  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  surging  masses,  and  my  mind  is  diverted 
by  tricks  of  the  fencing  ring,  —  but  also  because  the  peo- 
ple there,  without  being  conscious  of  it,  live  as  if  it  were 
worth  their  while  to  put  all  their  energies  into  this  life, 
and  as  if  beyond  there  was  nothing  but  a  chemical  process. 
My  pulse  begins  to  beat  in  unison  with  theirs ;  I  feel  my- 
self in  harmony  with  my  surroundings ;  amuse  myself  or 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.       '  21 

bore  myseK,  conquer  or  am  conquered,  but  enjoy  a  com- 
parative rest. 


Rome,  Babuino,  13  January. 

I  have  only  four  days  left  before  my  departure,  and  will 
now  sum  up  what  I  said  about  myself.  I  am  an  individ- 
ual rather  worn  out,  very  sensitive,  and  of  a  highly 
nervous  temperament.  I  have  a  strongly  developed  con- 
sciousness of  self,  seconded  by  comparative  culture,  and 
taken  altogether,  may  consider  myself  an  intellectually 
developed  being. 

My  scepticism  debars  me  from  all  firm  convictions.  I 
look,  observe,  criticise,  sometimes  fancy  I  get  hold  of  some 
essential  truth,  but  am  ready  always  to  doubt  even  that. 
I  have  already  said  all  that  was  necessary  in  reference  to 
religion.  As  to  my  social  creed  I  am  a  conservative  so 
far  as  a  man  in  my  position  is  bound  to  be,  and  so  far  as 
conservatism  suits  me.  No  need  to  mention  that  I  am 
far  from  considering  conservatism  as  a  dogma,  which  no 
one  is  allowed  to  touch  or  to  criticise.  I  am  too  much 
civilized  to  take  a  party  view  of  either  aristocracy  or 
democracy.  I  leave  that  as  a  pastime  to  those  who  live 
in  the  country,  or  in  remote  places  where  ideas,  like  fash- 
ions, are  some  ten  years  late.  From  the  time  when  priv- 
ileges were  done  away  with,  the  question  has  been  closed ; 
but  in  remoter  parts,  where  the  world  remains  more 
or  less  stagnant,  it  has  become  not  so  much  a  question  of 
principle  as  rather  a  question  of  vanity  and  nerves.  In 
regard  to  myself,  I  like  well-bred  people,  —  people  with 
brains  and  nerves,  and  look  for  them  where  they  are  most 
readily  found.  I  like  them  as  I  like  works  of  art,  fine 
scenery,  and  beautiful  women.  From  an  aesthetic  point 
of  view,  I  possess  refined  nerves,  —  too  refined,  perhaps, 
owing  to  my  early  training  and  a  naturally  impression- 
able temperament.  This  aesthetic  sensitiveness  gives  me 
as  many  delights  as  torments,  and  renders  me  one  great 
service :  it  preserves  me  from  cynicism  or  otherwise  ex- 


22  vVITHOUT  DOGMA. 

treme  corruption,  and  serves  me  instead  of  moral  princi- 
ple. I  recoil  from  many  things,  not  because  they  are 
wicked,  but  because  they  are  ugly.  From  my  aesthetic 
nerves  I  derive  also  a  certain  delicacy  of  feeling.  Taken 
all  in  all,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  am  a  man  a  little  marred 
by  life,  decent  enough  though  to  say  the  truth,  rather 
floating  in  mid-air  because  not  supported  by  any  dogma, 
either  social  or  religious.  I  am  also  without  an  aim  to 
which  I  could  devote  my  life. 

One  word  more  about  my  abilities  before  concluding 
the  synthesis.  My  father,  my  aunt,  my  colleagues,  and 
sometimes  strangers,  consider  them  simply  prodigious. 
I  allow  that  my  intellect  has  a  certain  glitter.  But  will 
the  improductivite  Slave  scatter  all  the  hopes  invested  in 
me  ?  Considering  all  I  have,  or  rather  have  not  done 
up  to  this  day,  either  for  others  or  myself,  I  feel  in- 
clined to  think  that  such  will  be  the  case.  This  confes- 
sion costs  me  more  than  appears  on  the  surface.  My 
irony  when  I  think  of  myself  tastes  bitter  on  the  palate. 
There  was  something  barren  in  the  clay  from  which  God 
formed  the  Ploszowskis,  since  on  that  soil  everything 
springs  up  and  grows  so  luxuriously,  yet  produces  no 
fruit.  Truly,  if  with  this  barrenness,  this  powerlessness 
to  act,  I  possessed  the  abilities  of  a  genius,  it  would 
be  a  strange  kind  of  genius,  —  a  genius  without  port- 
folio, as  there  are  ministers  of  state  without  portfolio. 

This  definition,  "  a  genius  without  portfolio  "  seems  to 
fit  me  to  perfection.  I  shall  take  out  a  patent  of  inven- 
tion for  the  word.  But  the  definition  does  not  apply  to 
me  alone.  Its  name  is  legion.  Side  by  side  with  the 
improchictivite  Slave  goes  the  genius  without  portfolio ; 
it  is  a  pure  product  of  the  Slav  soil.  Once  more  I  say 
its  name  is  legion.  I  do  not  know  another  part  of  the 
world  where  so  much  ability  is  wasted,  in  which  even, 
those  who  bring  forth  something  give  so  little,  so  incred- 
ibly little,  in  comparison  with  what  God  gave  them. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  23 

Rome,  Babuino,  14  January. 
Another  letter  from  my  aunt  urging  me  to  come.  I  am 
coming,  I  am  coming,  dear  aunt,  though  God  knows  I  am 
doing  it  out  of  love  for  you ;  otherwise  I  should  greatly 
prefer  to  remain  where  I  am.  My  father  seems  not  well ; 
from  time  to  time  he  feels  a  strange  numbness  on  the 
whole  of  his  left  side.  At  my  urgent  entreaties  he  has 
seen  a  physician,  but  I  am  quite  sure  the  physic  he  re- 
ceived is  safely  stowed  away  in  a  cupboard,  according  to 
an  old  custom  he  has.  Once  he  opened  the  mysterious 
receptacle  and  showed  me  a  whole  collection  of  bottles, 
pill-boxes,  and  powders,  saying :  "  For  mercy's  sake  !  this 
would  kill  a  strong  man,  let  alone  a  sick  one."  Up  to 
now,  this  quaint  way  of  looking  upon  medicine  has  not 
done  him  any  harm,  but  I  am  troubled  about  the  future. 
Another  reason  for  my  unwillingness  to  go  is  my  aunt's 
])lan  of  campaign.  Of  course  she  is  anxious  to  see  me 
married.  I  do  not  know  whether  she  has  anything  defi- 
nite in  view.  God  grant  I  may  be  wrong;  but  she  does 
uot  deny  the  intention.  "  About  an  eligible  parti  like 
you,"  she  writes,  "there  will  be  at  once  a  war  of  the 
roses,  you  may  be  sure  of  that."  I  am  tired  and  do  not 
wish  for  any  war,  and  least  of  all  to  end  it  like  Henry  VII. 
by  a  marriage.  On  the  other  hand,  —  I  dare  not  tell  my 
aunt,  but  may  confess  it  to  myself,  —  I  do  not  like  Polish 
women.  I  am  thirty-five,  and  like  other  men  that  live 
much  in  society,  I  had  my  sentimental  passages,  among 
others,  with  Polish  women,  and  from  these  encounters  I 
carried  away  the  impression  that  they  are  the  most  im- 
possible and  most  wearying  women  in  the  world.  I  do 
not  know  whether,  generally  speaking,  they  are  more  vir- 
tuous than  their  French  or  Italian  sisters ;  I  only  know 
that  they  are  more  pathetic.  The  very  remembrance  of 
it  gives  me  a  creepy  sensation.  I  can  understand  an 
elegy  over  a  broken  pitcher  when  you  behold  the  shards 
for  the  first  time  ;  but  to  go  on  with  the  same  pathos  over 
a  much  mended  pitcher,  looks  more  like  a  comic  opera- 


24  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

A  pleasant  role  that  of  the  listener,  whom  courtesy  bids 
to  take  it  seriously. 

Strange,  fantastic  women  with  fiery  imagination  and 
cold  temperaments  !  In  their  sentiments  there  is  neither 
cheerfulness  nor  even  simplicity.  They  are  in  love  with 
the  outward  forms  of  love,  caring  less  for  its  intrinsic 
value.  With  French  or  Italian  women  after  the  first 
skirmishes,  you  may  be  sure  of  your  "  ergo."  With  a  Pole 
it  is  different.  Somebody  said  that  if  a  man  is  mistaken 
and  says  two  and  two  makes  five,  you  may  be  able  to  set 
him  right ;  a  woman  says  two  and  two  is  a  lamp,  and  you 
come  against  a  blank  wall.  In  a  Polish  woman's  logic 
two  and  two  may  be  not  four,  but  a  lamp,  love,  hatred,  a 
cat,  tears,  duty,  scorn ;  in  brief,  you  cannot  foresee  any- 
thing, calculate  upon  anything,  or  guard  against  anything. 
It  may  be,  after  all,  because  of  these  very  pitfalls  that 
their  virtue  is  better  guarded  than  that  of  other  women, 
if  only  for  the  reason  that  the  beleaguering  forces  get 
mortally  tired.  But  what  struck  me,  and  what  I  resented 
most,  is  that  those  pitfalls,  barricades,  and  the  whole  ar- 
ray of  defence  are  not  so  much  erected  for  the  repulse  of 
the  enemy  as  to  give  them  the  sensation  of  warfare.  I 
spoke  of  this  in  a  roundabout  way  with  a  clever  woman 
only  half  a  Pole,  for  her  father  was  an  Italian. 

She  listened  to  me  for  a  while,  then  said  at  last :  — 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are  very  much  like  the  fox  look- 
ing at  the  dovecote.  He  does  not  like,  and  it  makes  him 
wroth,  to  see  the  doves  dwelling  so  high,  and  unlike  the 
hens,  always  on  the  wing.  All  you  have  said  tells  in 
favor  of  Polish  women." 

"  How  do  you  make  that  out  ?  " 

"  The  more  a  Polish  woman  seems  intolerable  as  som'e- 
body  else's  wife,  the  more  desirable  she  is  to  have  for 
one's  own." 

She  had  driven  me  into  a  corner,  and  I  could  not  find 
an  answer.  Perhaps  she  is  right,  and  I  look  upon  it  from 
a  fox's  point  of  view.  There  is  also  not  the  slightest 
doubt  that  if  I  were  to  marry,  especially  a  Pole,  I  not  only 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  25 

should  search  for  her  among  the  high  flying  doves,  but 
I  should  choose  a  perfectly  white  one. 

But  I  am  like  the  chickens  when  asked  in  what  sauce 
they  would  like  to  be  served;  I  do  not  want  to  be  dished 
up  at  all.  Now,  to  return  to  my  grievance  against  you, 
dear  ladies,  you  are  before  everything  in  love  with  love, 
and  not  with  the  lover.  Every  one  of  you  is  a  queen  in 
her  own  rights,  and  in  this  you  differ  from  other  women ; 
every  one  seems  to  confer  a  boon  and  a  favor  in  per- 
mitting herself  to  be  loved ;  none  agrees  to  be  only  an 
addition  or  completion  of  a  man's  life,  who,  besides 
matrimony,  has  some  other  aims  in  life.  You  want  us 
to  live  for  you,  instead  of  living  for  us.  Last,  but  not 
least,  you  love  your  children  more  than  your  husband. 
His  final  fate  is  that  of  a  satellite  turning  forever  round 
in  the  same  orbit.  I  have  seen  this  and  noticed  it  very 
often  in  a  general  way ;  but  now  and  then  there  happens 
to  be  found  a  pure  diamond  too  among  the  chaff.  No,  my 
queens  and  princesses,  permit  me  to  worship  you  from  a 
safe  distance. 

Fancy  putting  aside  all  other  aims,  all  ideals,  in  order 
to  burn  incense  every  day  at  the  shrine  of  a  woman,  and 
that  woman  one's  own  wife.  No,  dear  ladies,  that  is  not 
sufficient  to  fill  a  man's  life. 

Nevertheless,  that  second  self  sometimes  mutters,  "And 
what  else  is  there  for  you  to  do  ?  If,  anybody  it  is  you 
who  are  fittest  for  the  sacrifice,  for  what  are  your  aims  or 
your  intentions  ?  No  !  the  deuce  and  all !  To  change 
the  whole  tenor  of  one's  life,  renounce  old  habits,  com- 
forts, pleasures,  it  must  be  a  great  love,  indeed,  that 
could  induce  me  to  such  a  venture.  Marriage  means  a 
most  amazing  act  of  faith  in  a  woman,  I  could  never 
summon  courage  enough  to  commit.  No,  most  decid- 
edly, I  do  not  wish  to  be  served  up  in  any  sauce  what- 
ever." 


26  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Warsaw,  21  January. 

I  arrived  here  to-day.  I  broke  my  journey  at  Vienna 
which  made  it  less  tiring,  but  my  nerves  do  not  let 
me  sleep,  so  I  take  up  my  journal  which  has  grown 
as  a  friend  to  me.  What  joy  there  was  in  the  house  at 
my  arrival,  and  what  a  dear,  kind  soul  that  aunt  of  mine 
is !  I  do  believe  she  is  awake  now  for  very  joy.  She 
could  scarcely  eat  any  dinner.  When  in  the  country  at 
Ploszow,  she  is  continually  wrangling  with  her  land- 
agent,  Pan  Chwastowski,  a  burly  old  nobleman  who 
does  not  give  in  to  her  one  whit.  Sometimes  their  dis- 
putes reach  to  such  a  pitch  that  a  catastrophe  seems 
imminent ;  then  suddenly  my  aunt  relaxes,  falls  to  with 
an  appetite  and  eats  her  dinner  with  a  certain  determina- 
tion. To-day  she  had  only  the  servants  to  scold,  and 
that  was  not  sufficient  to  give  her  an  appetite.  She  was 
in  capital  spirits  though,  and  the  loving  glances  she  be- 
stowed on  me  beggar  description.  In  intimate  circles 
I  am  called  my  aunt's  fetich,  which  makes  her  very 
angry. 

Of  course  my  fears  and  presentiments  have  not  de- 
ceived me.  There  are  not  only  plans,  but  also  a  definite 
object.  After  dinner  my  aunt  is  in  the  habit  of  walking 
up  and  down  the  room,  and  often  thinks  aloud.  There- 
fore, in  spite  of  the  mystery  she  deems  fit  to  surround, 
herself  with,  I  heard  the  following  monologue :  — 

"  He  is  young,  handsome,  rich,  intelligent ;  she  would 
be  a  fool  if  she  did  not  fall  in  love  with  him  at  once." 

To-morrow  I  am  to  go  to  a  picnic  the  gentlemen  are 
giving  for  the  ladies.  They  say  it  is  going  to  be  a 
grand  entertainment. 

Warsaw,  25  January. 
I  am  often  bored  at  balls.     As  a  homo  sapiens  and  an 
eligible  parti,  I  abhor  them ;  as  an  artist,  that  is,  artist 
■without  portfolio,  I  now  and  then  like  them.  What  a  splen- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  27 

did  sight,  for  instance,  that  broad  staircase  well  lit  up, 
where,  amid  a  profusion  of  flowers  the  women  ascend  to 
the  ball-room.  They  all  appear  tall,  and  when  not  seen 
from  below  (because  the  training  robes  destroy  the  illu- 
sion) they  remind  one  of  the  angels  on  Jacob's  ladder. 
I  like  the  motion,  the  light,  the  flowers,  and  the  gauzy 
material  which  enwraps  the  young  girls  as  in  a  soft 
mist;  and  then  those  shoulders,  necks,  and  arms  which 
released  from  the  warm  cloaks  seem  at  once  to  grow 
firm  and  crisp  as  marble.  My  sense  of  smell,  too,  is 
gratified,  for  I  delight  in  good  perfumes. 

The  picnic  was  a  great  success.  To  give  Staszewski 
his  due,  he  knows  how  to  arrange  these  things.  I  ar- 
rived together  with  my  aunt,  but  lost  sight  of  her  in  the 
entrance  hall,  for  Staszewski  himself  came  down  to  lead 
her  upstairs.  The  dear  old  lady  had  on  her  ermine  cloak 
she  uses  on  great  occasions,  and  which  her  friends  call 
her  robe  of  state.  When  I  entered  the  ballroom  I  re- 
mained near  the  door  and  looked  around.  What  a  strange 
sensation  when,  after  a  long  interval,  one  comes  back  to 
once  familiar  scenes.  I  feel  I  am  a  part  of  them,  and  yet  I 
look  at  them  and  criticise  them  as  if  I  were  a  stranger. 
Especially  the  women  attracted  my  attention, —  I  must 
admit,  fastidious  as  I  am,  that  our  society  is  very  choice. 
I  saw  pretty  faces  and  plain  faces,  but  all  stamped  with 
the  same  well-bred  refinement.  The  necks  and  shoulders, 
In  spite  of  the  softly  rounded  contours,  simply  reminded 
me  of  Sevres  china.  There  is  a  restful  elegance,  some- 
thing daintily  finished,  in  all  of  them.  Truly,  they  do 
not  imitate  Europe,  —  they  are  Europe. 

I  remained  there  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  indolently 
musing  which  of  all  these  dainty  damsels  my  aunt  had 
chosen  for  me,  when  Sniatynski  and  his  wife  came  up.  I 
had  seen  him  only  a  few  months  ago  at  Rome,  and  had 
known  her,  too,  for  some  time.  I  like  her  very  much ; 
she  has  a  sweet  face  and  belongs  to  those  exceptional 
Poles  that  do  not  absorb  their  husband's  whole  life,  but 
surrender  their  own.     Presently  a  young  girl  slipped  in 


28  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

between  us,  and  while  greeting  Pani  Sniatynska,  put  out 
a  small  hand  encased  in  a  white  kid  glove  and  said :  — 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Leon  ?  " 

I  felt  slightly  perplexed  at  this  question,  for  indeed  I 
did  not  know  who  it  was  that  greeted  me  thus  familiarly; 
but  not  wishing  to  seem  rude,  I  smiled  and  pressed  the 
little  hand,  saying,  "  Of  course  I  do."  I  must  have  looked 
a  little  foolish  because,  presently  Pani  Sniatynska  burst 
out  laughing  and  said,  **  But  he  does  not  recognize  you ; 
it  is  Aniela  P." 

Aniela,  my  cousin !  No  wonder  I  did  not  recognize  her. 
The  last  time  I  saw  her,  some  ten  or  eleven  years  ago  at 
Ploszow,  she  wore  a  short  frock  and  pink  stockings.  I 
remember  the  midges  had  stung  her  about  the  legs,  and 
she  stamped  on  the  ground  like  a  little  pony.  How  could 
I  dream  that  these  white  shoulders,  this  breast  covered 
with  violets,  this  pretty  face  with  the  dark  eyes,  in  short, 
this  girl  in  the  full  bloom  of  maidenhood,  was  the  same 
as  the  little  wagtail  on  thin  feet  I  had  known  formerly. 
How  pretty  she  had  grown ;  a  fine  butterfly  had  come 
from  that  chrysalis.  I  renewed  my  greeting  very  heart- 
ily. Afterwards  when  the  Sniatynskis  had  left  us  she 
told  me  that  my  aunt  and  her  mother  had  sent  her  to 
fetch  me.  I  offered  my  arm  and  we  went  across  the 
room. 

All  at  once  it  burst  in  upon  me.  It  was  she,  Aniela,  my 
aunt  had  in  her  mind.  That  then  was  the  secret,  the 
surprise  meant  for  me.  My  aunt  always  used  to  be  fond 
of  her,  and  troubled  herself  not  a  little  over  Pani  P. 's 
financial  difficulties.  I  only  wondered  why  these  ladies 
were  not  stopping  with  my  aunt ;  but  I  did  not  ponder 
over  it  long ;  I  preferred  to  look  at  Aniela,  who  naturally 
interested  me  more  than  the  average  girl.  As  we  had  to 
make  our  way  to  the  other  end  of  the  room  and  the  crush 
was  great,  I  had  ample  time  for  conversation  and  scru- 
tiny. Fashion  this  year  has  it  that  gloves  should  be 
worn  halfway  up  the  elbow,  so  I  noticed  that  the  arm 
which  rested  on  mine  had  a  slightly  dusky  shade,  covered 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  29 

as  it  was  with  a  light  down.  And  yet  she  could  not  be 
called  a  brunette.  Her  hair  is  a  light  brown  with  a  gleam 
of  bronze.  Her  eyes  are  light  too,  but  appear  dark,  shaded 
as  they  are  by  long  eyelashes ;  the  eyebrows,  on  the  con- 
trary, are  dark  and  very  pretty.  The  characteristic  of 
this  little  head  with  the  low  brow  is  that  exuberance  of 
hair,  eyebrows,  eyelashes,  and  that  down,  which  on  the 
face  is  very  slight.  This  at  some  future  time  may  spoil 
her  beauty,  but  at  present  she  is  so  young  that  it  points 
only  to  an  exuberance  of  organism,  and  shows  that  she  is 
not  a  doll,  but  a  woman  full  of  warm,  active  life. 

I  do  not  deny  that,  fastidious  as  are  my  nerves  and  not 
easily  thrilled,  I  fell  under  a  spell.  She  is  my  type  exactly. 
My  aunt,  who,  if  she  ever  heard  about  Darwin  would  call 
him  a  wicked  writer,  has  unconsciously  adopted  his  theory 
of  natural  selection.  Yes,  she  is  my  type.  They  have 
baited  the  hook  this  time  with  a  dainty  morsel. 

An  electric  current  seemed  to  pass  from  her  arm  into 
mine.  Besides  I  noticed  that  she  too  seemed  pleased 
with  me,  and  that  naturally  raises  one's  spirits.  My  scru- 
tiny from  an  artistic  point  of  view  proved  highly  satis- 
factory. There  are  faces  that  seem  to  be  a  translation 
from  music  or  poetry  into  human  shape.  Such  a  face  is 
Auiela's.  There  is  nothing  commonplace  about  it.  As 
children  are  inoculated  for  sraall-pox  so  the  upper  classes 
inoculate  modesty  in  their  girls ;  there  is  something  so 
very  innocent  in  this  face,  but  through  that  very  inno- 
cence peeps  out  a  warm  temperament.  What  a  combi- 
nation !  —  as  if  some  one  said,  "  An  innocent  Satan  !  " 

Unsophisticated  as  Aniela  is,  she  is  yet  a  little  bit  of 
a  coquette,  and  quite  conscious  of  her  attractions.  Know- 
ing for  instance  that  she  has  beautiful  eyelashes,  she  very 
often  drops  her  eyes.  She  has  also  a  graceful  way  of 
lifting  her  head  and  looking  at  the  person  she  is  speak- 
ing to.  In  the  beginning  she  was  slightly  artificial,  from 
shyness  I  fancy,  but  soon  afterwards  we  chatted  togetlier 
as  if  we  had  never  been  separated  since  those  times  at 
Ploszow.     My  aunt  is  highly  amusiug  with  her  absent- 


so  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

mindedness,  but  I  should  not  care  to  have  her  for  a  fellow- 
conspirator.  Scarcely  had  we  approached  the  two  elderly- 
ladies  and  I  exchanged  greetings  with  Aniela's  mother, 
when  my  aunt,  noticing  my  animation,  turned  to  her  com- 
panion and  said  aloud,  "  How  pretty  she  looks  in  those 
violets  !  It  was,  after  all,  a  happy  thought  that  he  should 
see  her  the  first  time  at  a  ball." 

Aniela's  mother  grew  very  confused,  and  so  did  Aniela, 
and  the  truth  began  to  dawn  upon  me  why  it  was  the 
ladies  were  not  staying  with  my  aunt.  This  had  been 
Pani  P.'s  idea ;  she  and  my  aunt  had  been  plotting  to- 
gether. I  suppose  Aniela  had  not  been  taken  into  con- 
fidence, but  thanks  to  female  perspicacity  could  not  help 
guessing  how  matters  stood. 

To  put  an  end  to  the  embarrassing  situation  I  turned  to 
her  and  said,  "I  warn  you  that  I  am  not  very  proficient 
at  dancing,  but  as  they  will  carry  you  off  any  moment, 
will  you  grant  me  a  waltz  ?  " 

Aniela  for  all  answer  handed  me  her  tablets  and  said 
resolutely,  "  Put  down  as  many  as  you  like." 

I  confess  that  I  do  not  like  the  role  of  a  puppet  pulled 
by  a  string,  therefore  I  resolved  to  take  an  active  part  in 
the  old  ladies'  politics.  I  took  the  tablets  and  wrote, 
"  Did  you  understand  that  they  want  us  to  marry  ?  " 

Aniela  read  it  and  changed  color.  She  remained  silent 
for  a  moment,  as  if  not  trusting  her  voice,  or  hesitating 
what  to  say ;  at  last  she  lifted  her  eyelashes  and  looking 
straight  into  my  eyes  she  replied,  "Yes." 
■  It  was  now  her  turn  to  question  me,  not  in  words  but 
with  her  eyes.  I  already  knew  I  had  made  a  favorable 
impression  on  her,  and  if  she  had  an  inkling  of  the  truth 
her  mind  must  needs  dwell  a  good  deal  on  me.  I  inter- 
preted the  look  of  her  eyes  thus  :  "  I  am  aware  my  mother 
and  my  aunt  want  us  to  become  acquainted,  to  know  each 
other  well.     And  you  ?  " 

Instead  of  an  answer  I  put  my  arm  around  her  waist, 
and  lightly  drawing  her  towards  me,  led  her  into  the 
mazes  of  a  waltz.     I  remembered  my  fencing  practice. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  31 

A  mute  answer  could  not  but  stir  up  fancies  in  a  girl's 
n:ind,  especially  after  what  I  had  written  on  the  tablets. 
I  thought  to  myself :  "  What  harm  is  there  if  her  fancy 
turns  into  my  direction  ?  As  far  as  I  am  concerned  I 
shall  not  go  a  step  further  than  I  intend,  and  if  her  fancy 
travels  further  I  cannot  help  it."  Aniela  dances  exqui- 
sitely, and  she  danced  this  waltz  as  a  woman  should,  with 
a  certain  vehemence  and  self-abandon  at  the  same  time. 
I  noticed  that  the  violets  on  her  breast  rose  and  fell  far 
quicker  than  the  quiet  step  of  the  dance  warranted.  I 
understood  that  she  felt  agitated.  Love  is  a  law  of  nature, 
kept  under  control  by  a  careful  bringing-up.  But  once 
the  girl  is  told  that  she  may  love  this  one  or  that,  the 
chance  is  she  will  obey  very  readily.  Aniela  evidently 
expected  that  after  I  had  been  bold  enough  to  write  those 
few  words  I  would  allude  to  it  further,  but  I  kept  aloof 
on  purpose  to  leave  her  in  suspense. 

I  wished  also  to  look  at  her  from  a  distance.  Deci- 
dedly she  is  my  type.  Women  of  that  kind  have  a  spe- 
cial attraction  for  me.  Oh,  if  only  she  were  thirty,  and 
not  a  girl  they  expect  me  to  marry ! 


Warsaw,  30  January. 
They  have  come  to  stay  with  us.  Yesterday  I  spent 
all  the  day  with  Aniela.  She  has  more  pages  to  her  soul 
than  most  girls  at  her  age.  On  many  of  these  pages  the 
future  will  write,  but  there  is  room  for  many  beautiful 
things.  She  feels  and  understands  everything,  and  is 
an  excellent  listener,  and  follows  the  conversation  with 
her  large,  intelligent  eyes.  A  woman  that  can  listen 
possesses  one  more  attraction,  because  she  flatters  man's 
vanity.  I  do  not  know  whether  Aniela  is  conscious  of 
this,  or  whether  it  be  her  womanly  instinct.  Maybe  she 
has  heard  so  much  about  me  from  my  aunt  that  she 
deems  every  word  I  say  an  oracle.  She  is  decidedly  not 
without  coquetry.  To-day  I  asked  her  what  she  wished 
for  most  in  life.     She  answered,  "  To  see  Rome  ; "  then 


S2  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

her  eyelashes  fell,  and  she  looked  indescribably  pretty. 
She  sees  that  I  like  her,  and  it  makes  her  happy.  Her 
coquetry  is  charming,  because  it  comes  straight  from  a 
delighted  heart,  and  tries  to  please  the  chosen  object. 
I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  her  heart  is  fluttering 
towards  me,  as  a  moth  flutters  into  the  candle.  Poor 
child !  she  feels  the  elders  have  given  their  mute  consent, 
and  she  obeys  only  too  willingly.  I  can  watch  the  pro- 
cess from  hour  to  hour. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  inquire  of  myself,  "  If  you  do  not 
want  to  marry  her,  why  are  you  trying  to  make  her  love 
you?  "  But  I  do  not  choose  to  answer  that  question.  I 
feel  at  peace  here,  and  restful !  After  all,  what  is  it  I  am 
doing  ?  I  try  not  to  appear  more  foolish  or  disagreeable 
or  less  courteous  than  I  am  by  nature,  that  is  all. 

Aniela  appeared  to-day  at  breakfast  in  a  loose  sailor- 
dress,  which  only  just  betrayed  the  outline  of  her  shape, 
and  she  looked  bewitching.  Her  eyes  were  still  full  of 
dreaminess  and  sleep.  It  is  something  wonderful  what 
an  impression  she  is  making  on  me. 


31  January. 
My  aunt  is  giving  an  entertainment  in  honor  of  Aniela. 
I  am  paying  visits  and  leaving  cards  right  and  left.  I 
called  upon  the  Sniatynskis,  and  sat  with  them  for  a 
long  time,  because  I  feel  there  at  home.  Sniatynski  and 
his  wife  are  always  wrangling  with  each  other,  but  their 
life  is  different  from  that  of  most  other  married  people. 
As  a  rule,  it  happens  when  there  is  one  cloak,  each  tries 
to  get  possession  of  it ;  these  two  dispute  because  he 
wishes  her  to  have  it,  and  she  wants  it  all  for  him.  I 
like  them  immensely,  —  it  is  so  refreshing  to  see  there 
is  still  happiness  out  of  novels.  With  all  that,  he  is  so 
clever ;  as  sensitive  as  a  Stradivarius  violin,  and  quite 
conscious  of  his  happiness.  He  wanted  it,  and  has  got 
it.  I  envy  him.  I  always  used  to  like  his  conversation. 
They  offered  me  some  black  coffee  ;  it  is  only  at  literary 


WtTHOtJT  DOGMA.  S3 

people's  houses  one  can  get  such  coffee.  He  asked  me 
what  I  thought  of  Warsaw  after  so  long  an  absence. 
There  was  also  some  talk  about  the  ball,  especially 
from  the  lady's  part.  She  seems  to  guess  something 
about  my  aunt's  plans,  and  wants  to  have  one  of  her 
rosy  fingers  in  the  pie,  —  especially  as  she  comes  from 
the  same  part  of  the  country  as  Aniela. 

We  touched  personal  matter  very  slightly,  but  had  a 
lively  discussion  about  society  in  general.  I  told  him 
what  I  thought  about  its  refinement ;  and  as  Sniatyuski, 
though  he  criticises  it  himself  mercilessly,  is  always 
greedy  to  hear  its  praises  sung,  it  put  him  into  capital 
spirits. 

"  I  like  to  hear  you  say  so,"  he  remarked,  "  as  you  have 
so  many  chances  to  make  comparisons,  and  are  rather 
inclined  to  look  at  the  world  from  a  pessimist's  point  of 
view." 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  what  I  just  said  does  not  lean 
that  way." 

"  How  do  you  prove  that  ?  "  asked  Sniatynski,  quickly. 

"  You  see,  refined  culture  might  be  compared  to  cases 
with  glass  and  china,  upon  which  is  written,  '  Fragile.' 
For  you,  a  spiritual  son  of  Athens,  for  me  and  a  few 
others,  it  is  pleasant  to  be  in  touch  with  it ;  but  if 
you  want  to  build  anything  on  such  foundation,  you 
will  find  the  beams  coming  down  on  your  head.  Don't 
you  think  those  refined  dilettanti  of  life  are  bound  to 
get  the  worst  in  a  struggle  with  a  people  of  strong 
nerves,  a  tough  skin,  and  iron  muscles  ?  " 

Sniatynski,  who  is  very  lively,  jumped  up  and  walked 
about  the  room,  then  rushed  at  me  impetuously.  "  You 
have  seen  only  one  side  of  the  picture,  and  not  the  best 
one,  either;  do  not  think  there  is  nothing  more  to  be 
seen.  You  come  from  abroad,  and  pronounce  judgment 
upon  us  as  if  you  had  lived  here  all  your  life." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  else  there  may  be,  but  I  know 
that  nowhere  in  the  world  is  there  such  a  vast  difference 
between  the  classes.      On  one  side,  the   most  refined 

3 


34  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

culture,  —  over-refined,  if  anything ;  on  the  other,  abso- 
lute barbarism  and  ignorance." 

A  long  discussion  followed,  and  it  was  dusk  before  I 
left  them.  He  said  if  I  came  oftener  to  see  them,  he 
would  show  me  the  connecting  link  between  the  two 
classes,  introduce  me  to  men  who  were  neither  over- 
refined,  ignorant,  nor  sickening  with  dilettantism,  but 
strong  men,  who  knew  what  they  wanted,  and  were 
going  straight  for  it. 

When  I  was  going  away,  Sniatynski  called  out  after  me : 

"  From  such  as  you  nothing  good  will  come,  but  your 
children  may  be  men ;  but  you  and  such  like  must  lose 
every  penny  you  possess,  otherwise  even  your  grand- 
children will  do  nothing  useful." 

I  still  think  that  on  the  whole  I  was  right.  I  have 
taken  special  notice  of  this  conversation,  as  this  dis- 
crepancy has  occupied  my  thoughts  ever  since  my 
arrival.  The  fact  is  that  between  the  classes  there  is  a 
vast  gulf  that  precludes  all  mutvial  understanding,  and 
makes  simultaneous  efforts  simply  impossible.  At  least, 
I  look  upon  it  in  that  light.  Sevres  china  and  common 
clay,  —  nothing  between ;  one  tres  fragile,  the  other, 
Ovidius's  "rudis  indigestaque  moles."  Of  course  Sevres 
china  sooner  or  later  breaks,  and  from  the  clay  the 
future  may  mould  anything  it  likes. 

2  February. 

Yesterday  my  aunt's  entertainment  took  place.  Aniela 
was  the  cynosure  of  every  eye.  Her  white  shoulders 
peeping  out  from  a  cloud  of  muslin,  gauze,  or  what- 
ever it  is  called,  she  looked  like  a  Venus  rising  from 
the  foam.  I  fancy  it  is  already  gossiped  about  that 
I  am  going  to  marry  her.  I  noticed  that  her  eyes 
often  strayed  in  my  direction,  and  she  listened  to  her 
partners  with  an  absent,  distracted  expression. 

Guileless  child  !  she  cannot  hide  the  truth,  and  shows 
so  plainly  what  is  going  on  in  her  heart  that  I  could  not 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  35 

help  seeing  it,  unless  I  were  blind.  And  she  is  so  hum- 
ble and  quietly  happy  when  I  am  with  her  !  I  like  her 
immensely,  and  begin  to  waver.  Sniatynski  is  so  happy 
in  his  home  life  !  It  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  asked 
myself  whether  Sniatynski  be  more  foolish  or  wiser  than  I. 
Of  the  many  problems  of  life,  I  have  not  solved  one.  I 
am  nothing  ;  scepticism  is  sapping  my  whole  system  ; 
I  am  not  happy,  and  am  very  tired.  He,  with  less  knowl- 
edge than  I,  does  useful  work,  has  a  good  and  handsome 
wife,  the  rogue  !  and  his  very  philosophical  principles, 
adapted  to  life,  help  to  make  him  happy.  No,  it  must  be 
acknowledged,  it  is  I  who  am  the  more  foolish  of  the  two. 

The  keynote  of  Sniatynski's  philosophy  is  found  in  his 
dogmas  of  life.  Before  he  was  married  he  said  to  me : 
"  There  are  two  things  I  never  approach  with  scepticism, 
and  do  not  criticise  :  to  me  as  a  literary  man,  the  com- 
munity is  a  dogma ;  as  a  private  individual,  the  beloved 
woman."  I  thought  to  myself  then  :  "  My  mind  is  bolder, 
—  it  analyzes  even  that."  But  I  see  now  that  this  bold- 
ness has  not  led  me  to  anything.  And  how  lovely  she 
is,  —  that  little  dogma  of  mine  with  the  long  eyelashes  ! 
Decidedly,  I  am  going  the  way  I  did  not  mean  to  go.  The 
singular  attraction  which  draws  me  towards  her  cannot 
be  explained  by  the  law  of  natural  selection.  No  !  there 
is  something  more,  and  I  know  what  it  is.  She  loves 
me  with  all  the  freshness  of  her  honest  heart,  as  I  was 
never  loved  before.  How  different  from  the  fencing 
practice  of  former  years,  when  thrusts  were  dealt  or 
guarded  against!  The  woman  who  is  much  liked,  and 
who  in  her  turn  loves,  is  sure  to  win  in  the  end  if  she 
perseveres. 

"The  stray  bird,"  says  the  poet  Słowacki,  "comes 
back  to  his  haven  of  rest  and  peace  all  the  more  eagerly 
after  the  lonesomeness  of  his  stormy  flight.  Nothing 
takes  so  firm  a  hold  upon  a  man's  heart  as  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  is  loved." 

A  few  pages  before,  I  wrote  God  knows  what  about 
Polish  women ;  but  if  any  one  fancies  that  for  the  sake 


36  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

of  a  few  written  sentences  I  feel  myself  bound  to  pur- 
sue a  certain  course,  he  is  vastly  mistaken. 

How  that  girl  satisfies  my  artistic  taste  is  simply 
wonderful.  After  the  ball,  came  the  pleasantest  moment 
when,  everybody  gone,  we  sat  down  and  had  some  tea. 
Wanting  to  see  how  the  world  looked  outside,  I  drew 
back  the  heavy  curtains.  It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning  and  a  flood  of  daylight  poured  into  the  room. 
It  was  so  perfectly  blue,  seen  by  the  glare  of  the  lamps, 
that  it  reminded  me  of  the  Capri  grotto.  And  there 
stood  Aniela,  with  that  blue  haze  around  her  white 
shoulders.  She  looked  so  lovely  that  all  my  resolutions 
tottered  and  fell  to  pieces ;  I  felt  positively  grateful  to 
her  for  this  glimpse  of  beauty,  as  if  it  were  her  doing.  I 
pressed  her  hand  more  tenderly  than  I  had  ever  done 
before  when  saying  good-night  to  her. 

"  Good-morning,  you  mean,  not  good-night,  —  good- 
morning." 

Either  I  am  blind  and  deaf  or  her  eyes  and  voice  ex- 
pressed :  "  I  love  you,  I  love  you." 

I  do  the  same  —  almost. 

My  aunt  looking  at  us  gave  a  low  grunt  of  content- 
ment.    I  saw  tears  shining  in  her  eyes. 

To-morrow  we  leave  here  for  Ploszow. 


Ploszow,  5  February. 
This  is  my  second  day  in  the  country.  We  had  a 
splendid  drive.  The  weather  was  clear  and  frosty.  The 
snow  creaked  under  the  runners  of  the  sledge  and  glit- 
tered and  sparkled  in  the  fields.  Towards  sunset  the 
vast  plain  assumed  pink  and  purple  shades.  The  rooks, 
cawing  and  flapping  their  wings,  flew  in  and  out  the 
lime  trees.  Winter,  the  strong,  homely  winter,  is  a 
beautiful  thing.  There  is  a  certain  vigor  in  it,  and  dig- 
nity, and  what  is  more,  so  much  sincerity.  Like  a  true 
friend,  who,  regardless  as  to  consequences,  hurls  cutting 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  37 

truths,  it  smites  you  between  the  eyes  without  asking 
leave.  By  way  of  compensation  it  bestows  upon  3'ou 
some  of  its  own  vigor.  We  were  all  of  us  glad  to  leave 
town,  —  the  elder  ladies,  that  their  pet  scheme  might  be 
brought  to  a  climax  by  closer  companionship ;  I,  because 
I  was  near  Aniela ;  she,  maybe  for  the  same  reason,  felt 
happy  too.  She  bent  down  several  times  to  kiss  my 
aunt's  hands,  apropos  of  nothing,  out  of  sheer  content. 
She  looked  very  pretty  in  a  long,  fluffy  boa  and  a  coquet- 
tish fur  cap,  from  under  which  the  dark  eyes  and  the 
almost  childish  face  peeped  forth. 

How  young  she  looks. 

I  feel  at  home  in  Ploszow,  it  is  so  quiet  and  restful ; 
and  I  like  the  huge,  old-fashioned  chimneys.  The  woods 
are  to  my  aunt  as  the  apple  of  her  eye,  but  she  does  not 
grudge  herself  fuel ;  and  big  logs,  which  are  crackling 
and  burning  there  from  morning  until  night, make  it  look 
bright  and  cheerful.  "We  sat  around  the  fire  the  whole 
afternoon.  I  brought  out  some  of  my  reminiscences,  and 
told  them  about  Rome  and  its  treasures.  The  three 
women  listened  with  such  devoutness  that  it  made  me 
feel  ridiculous  in  my  own  eyes.  From  time  to  time, 
while  I  was  talking,  ray  aunt  cast  a  searching  glance  at 
Aniela  to  see  whether  she  expressed  enough  admiration. 
But  there  is  too  much  of  that  already.  Yesterday  she 
said  to  me  :  — 

"  Another  man  might  spend  there  his  whole  life  and 
not  see  half  the  beautiful  things  you  do." 

My  aunt  added  with  dogmatic  firmness,  — 

"I  have  always  said  so." 

It  is  as  well  that  there  is  not  another  sceptic  here,  for 
his  presence  would  embarrass  me  not  a  little. 

A  certain  dissonant  chord  in  our  little  circle  is  Aniela's 
mother.  The  poor  soul  has  had  so  many  sorrows  and 
anxieties  that  her  cheerfulness,  if  ever  she  had  any,  is  a 
thing  of  the  past.  She  is  simply  afraid  of  the  future, 
and  instinctively  suspects  pitfalls  even  in  good  fortune. 
She   was  very  unhappy  in  her  married  life,  and  after- 


38  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

wards  has  had  continual  worries  about  her  estate,  which 
is  very  much  involved.  In  addition  to  all  this  she  suf- 
fers from  nervous  headaches. 

Aniela  belongs  to  that  category  of  women  who  never 
trouble  themselves  about  money  matters.  1  like  her  for 
that,  for  it  proves  that  she  thinks  of  higher  things.  For 
the  matter  of  that,  everything  in  her  pleases  and  delights 
me  now. 

Tenderness  grows  on  the  soil  of  attraction  by  the 
senses,  as  quick  as  flowers  after  a  warm  rain.  To-day,  in 
the  morning,  1  saw  the  maid  carrying  up  her  gown  and 
boots  ;  this  moved  me  very  much,  especially  the  little, 
little  boots,  as  if  the  wearing  of  them  was  the  crown 
of  all  virtues  in  Aniela. 


Ploszow,  8  or  9  February. 

My  aunt  has  taken  up  her  usual  warfare  with  Pan 
Chwastowski.  This  is  such  an  original  habit  of  hers 
that  I  must  describe  one  of  their  disputes.  The  dear 
lady  can  evidently  not  exist  without  it,  or  at  least  not 
enjoy  her  dinner ;  Chwastowski,  again,  who,  by  the  bye, 
is  an  excellent  manager,  is  a  compound  of  brimstone  and 
saltpetre,  and  does  not  allow  anybody  to  thwart  him ; 
therefore  the  quarrels  sometimes  reach  the  acute  state. 
When  entering  the  dining-room  they  eye  each  other 
with  suspicious  glances.  The  first  shot  is  fired  by  my 
aunt  while  eating  her  soup. 

"It  is  a  very  long  time,  Pan  Chwastowski,  since  I 
heard  anything  about  the  winter  crops,  and  Pan  Chwas- 
towski, instead  of  giving  me  the  information,  speaks 
about  anything  but  what  I  want  to  know." 

"  They  were  very  promising  in  autumn,  my  lady ;  now 
they  are  covered  by  a  yard  or  two  of  snow,  —  how  am  I 
to  know  the  state  they  are  in  ?  I  am  not  the  Lord  Al- 
mighty." 

"  I  beg  of  you.  Pan  Chwastowski,  not  to  take  the 
Lord's  name  in  vain." 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  39 

"  I  do  not  look  under  His  snow,  therefore  do  not  offend 
Him." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  do  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly." 

"Pan  Chwastowski,  you  are  unbearable." 

"  Oho  !  bearable  enough  because  he  bears  a  great  deal." 

In  this  or  that  way  the  screw  goes  round.  There  is 
scarcely  a  meal  but  they  have  some  differences.  Then 
my  aunt  at  last  subsides,  and  seems  to  wreak  the  rem- 
nants of  her  anger  on  the  dinner.  She  enjoys  a  hearty 
appetite.  As  the  dinner  goes  on  she  gradually  brightens 
up  and  recovers  her  usual  spirits.  After  dinner,  I  offer 
my  arm  to  Aniela's  mother,  my  aunt  accepts  Pan  Chwas- 
towski's,  and  presently  they  sip  their  black  coffee  in 
peace  and  perfect  amity.  My  aunt  inquires  after  his 
sons,  and  he  kisses  her  hands.  I  saw  those  sons  of  his 
when  they  were  at  the  university,  and  I  hear  they  are 
promising  young  men,  but  great  radicals. 

Aniela  used  to  get  frightened  at  first  at  these  prandial 
disputes,  until  I  gave  her  the  chie  to  the  real  state  of 
things.  So  now  when  the  first  signal  of  battle  is  given, 
she  looks  at  me  slyly  from  under  those  long  lashes,  and 
there  is  a  little  smile  lurking  in  the  corners  of  her 
mouth.  She  is  so  pretty  then  I  feel  tempted  to  take 
her  in  my  arms.  I  have  never  met  a  woman  with  such 
delicate  veins  on  her  temples. 


12  February. 
Truly  a  metamorphosis  of  Ovidius  on  the  earth  and 
within  me !  The  frost  has  gone,  the  fine  weather  van- 
ished, and  there  is  Egyptian  darkness.  I  cannot  de- 
scribe it  better  than  by  saying  the  weather  is  foul. 
What  an  abominable  climate  !  In  Rome,  at  the  worst, 
the  sun  shines  at  intervals  half  a  dozen  times  a  day ; 
here  lamps  ought  to  be  lit  these  two  days.  The  black, 
heavy  mist  seems  to  permeate  one's  thoughts,  and  paint 
them  a  uniform  gray.     My  aunt  and  Pan  Chwastowski 


40  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

were  more  intent  than  usual  upon  warfare.  He  main- 
tained that  my  aunt,  by  not  allowing  the  woods  to  be 
touched,  causes  the  timber  to  spoil ;  my  aunt  replied 
that  others  did  their  best  to  cut  down  all  the  timber,  and 
not  a  bit  of  forest  would  soon  be  left  in  the  country. 
"  I  am  getting  old ;  let  the  trees  grow  old  too."  This 
reminds  me  of  the  nobleman  of  vast  possessions  who 
only  allowed  as  much  land  to  be  cultivated  as  to  where 
the  bark  of  his  dog  could  be  heard. 

Aniela's  mother,  without  intending  it,  gave  me  to-day  a 
bad  quarter  of  an  hour.  Alone  with  me  in  the  conserva- 
tory, she  began  telling  me,  with  maternal  boastfulness, 
that  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  a  certain  Pan  Kromitzki, 
had  made  overtures  for  Aniela's  hand, 

I  had  a  sensation  as  if  somebody  tried  to  remove  a 
splinter  from  my  flesh  with  a  fork.  As  the  blue  waves 
of  light  had  stirred  up  within  me  a  tender  feeling  for 
Aniela,  —  although  it  was  no  merit  of  hers,  —  so  now  the 
wooing  of  such  a  man  as  Kromitzki  threw  cold  water 
upon  the  nascent  affections.  I  know  that  ape  Kro- 
mitzki, and  do  not  like  him.  He  comes  from  Austrian 
Silesia,  where  it  seems  they  had  owned  estates.  In 
Kome  he  used  to  say  that  his  family  had  borne  the  title 
of  count  already  in  the  fifteenth  century,  and  at  the 
hotels  put  himself  down  as  "  Graf  von  Kromitzki."  But 
for  his  small,  black  eyes,  not  unlike  coffee-berries,  and 
his  black  hair,  his  head  looks  as  if  cut  out  from  a  cheese- 
rind,  —  for  such  is  his  complexion.  He  reminds  me  of  a 
death's-head,  and  I  simply  have  a  physical  loathing  for 
him.  Ugh  !  how  the  thought  of  him  in  connection  with 
Aniela  has  spoiled  her  image.  I  am  quite  aware  that 
she  is  in  no  way  responsible  for  Kromitzki's  intentions ; 
but  it  has  damaged  her  in  my  eyes.  I  do  not  know  why 
her  mother  should  think  it  necessary  to  tell  me  these  de- 
tails ;  if  it  be  a  warning,  it  has  missed  its  aim.  She 
must  have  some  grand  qualities,  this  Pani  P.,  since  she 
has  managed  to  steer  her  life  through  so  many  diffi- 
culties, and  at  the  same  time  educated  her  daughter  so 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  41 

well ;  but  she  is  clumsy  and  tedious  with  her  headaches 
and  her  macaronism. 

"  I  confess,"  she  said,  "  that  the  alliance  suited  me. 
At  times  I  almost  break  down  under  the  weight  of 
troubles.  I  am  a  woman  with  little  knowledge  of  busi- 
ness, and  what  I  acquired  I  have  paid  for  with  my 
health  ;  but  I  had  to  think  of  my  child.  Kromitzki  is 
very  clever.  He  has  large  concerns  at  Odessa,  and  is  at 
present  engaged  in  some  large  speculations  in  naphtha  at 
Baku,  or  some  such  place,  'que  sais-je.'  It  seems  there 
is  some  difficulty  about  his  not  being  a  Russian  subject. 
If  he  married  Aniela  he  might  clear  the  estate ;  and  as 
an  extensive  landowner  he  would  have  no  difficulty  in 
getting  naturalized." 

"  What  does  Aniela  say  to  this  ?"  I  asked  impatiently. 

''  She  does  not  care  for  him,  but  is  a  good  and  obedient 
child.     I  am  anxious  to  see  her  married  before  I  die." 

I  did  not  care  to  prolong  the  conversation,  which  ir- 
ritated me  more  than  I  can  tell ;  and  though  I  under- 
stand well  enough,  if  that  match  has  not  been  arranged, 
it  was  Aniela's  doing,  yet  I  feel  aggrieved  that  she 
should  allow  a  man  like  that  even  to  look  at  her.  For 
me  this  would  be  a  mere  question  of  nerves.  I  forget, 
however,  that  others  are  not  constituted  like  me,  and 
that  Kromitzki,  in  spite  of  his  cadaverous  face,  passes 
among  women  as  a  good-looking  man. 

I  wonder  what  his  affairs  are.  I  forgot  to  ask  whether 
he  is  at  Warsaw ;  most  likely  he  is,  as  he  goes  there 
every  winter.  As  to  his  business,  it  may  be  very 
magnificent,  but  I  doubt  whether  it  be  on  a  solid  basis. 
I  am  not  a  speculator,  and  could  not  for  the  life  of  me 
transact  a  stock-exchange  affair;  but  I  am  shrewd 
enough  to  know  it.  Besides  I  am  a  close  observer,  and 
quick  to  draw  conclusions.  Therefore  I  do  not  believe 
in  noblemen  with  a  genius  for  speculation.  I  am  afraid 
Kromitzki's  is  neither  an  inherited  nor  innate  quality, 
but  a  neurosis  driving  him  into  a  certain  direction.  I 
have  seen  examples  of  that  kind.    Now  and  then  blind 


42  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

fortune  favors  the  nobleman-speculator,  and  he  accu- 
mulates wealth ;  but  I  have  not  seen  one  who  did  not 
come  to  grief  before  he  died. 

Capacities  such  as  these  are  either  inherited  or  ac- 
quired by  early  training.  Chwastowski's  boys  will 
be  able  to  do  something  in  that  way  because  their 
father  lost  by  accident  all  his  fortune,  and  they  have  to 
make  a  fresh  start.  But  he  who  with  ready  capital, 
without  commercial  tradition  or  professional  knowledge, 
embarks  upon  commerce,  is  bound  to  come  to  grief.  Spec- 
ulation cannot  be  based  upon  illusions,  and  there  is  too 
much  of  that  in  the  speculations  of  our  noblemen.  Upon 
the  whole,  I  wish  Pan  von  Kromitzki  every  luck ! 


14  February. 
Pax !  pax !  pax !  The  painful  impression  has  vanished. 
What  keen  perceptions  Aniela  has  !  I  endeavored  to 
be  cheerful,  though  I  felt  out  of  spirits,  and  I  do  not 
think  there  was  any  perceptible  change  in  my  behavior ; 
yet  she  perceived  a  change  at  once.  To-day,  when  we 
looked  at  the  albums  and  were  alone,  —  which  happens 
pretty  often,  on  purpose  I  suppose,  —  she  grew  embar- 
rassed and  changed  color.  I  saw  at  once  she  wanted 
to  say  something,  and  did  not  dare.  For  a  single  mo- 
ment the  mad  thought  flashed  across  my  brain  that  she 
was  about  to  confess  her  love  for  me.  But  as  quick  as 
the  thought,  I  remembered  it  was  a  Polish  girl  I  had  be- 
fore me.  A  mere  chit  of  a  girl  —  I  beg  her  pardon,  a 
young  princess,  —  would  rather  die  than  be  the  first  to 
^confess  her  love.  When  asked  she  gives  her  assent 
I  rather  as  a  favor.  Besides,  Aniela  very  quickly  cor- 
rected my  mistake ;  suddenly  closing  the  album  she  said 
in  a  hesitating  voice :  "  What  is  the  matter  with  you, 
Leon  ?  There  is  something  the  matter,  is  there  not  ?  " 
I  began  assuring  her  at  once  that  there  was  nothing 
the  matter  with  me,  and  to  laugh  away  her  perturbation ; 
but  she  only  shook  her  head  and  said :  "  I  have  seen  that 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  43 

something  was 'amiss  these  last  two  days.  I  know  that 
men  like  you  may  be  easily  offended,  and  I  have  asked 
myself  whether  anything  I  might  have  done  or  said  —  " 
Her  voice  shook  a  little,  but  she  looked  straight  at  me. 

"  I  have  not  hurt  you,  have  I  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment  I  felt  tempted  to  say,  "  If  there 
is  anything  wanting  to  my  happiness  it  is  you,  Aniela, 
only  you  ;  "  but  a  sudden  terror  clutched  me  by  the  hair. 
Not  terror  of  her,  but  of  the  consequences  that  might  fol- 
low. I  took  her  hand,  kissed  it,  and  said  in  the  most 
cheerful  voice  I  could  assume,  "  You  are  a  good  and  dear 
girl ;  do  not  mind  me,  —  there  is  nothing  whatever  the 
matter ;  besides,  you  are  our  guest,  and  it  is  I  who  ought 
to  see  that  you  are  comfortable." 

And  I  kissed  again  her  hand,  both  hands  in  fact.  All 
this  could  be  still  put  down  to  cousinly  affection,  — 
human  nature  is  so  mean  that  the  consciousness  that 
there  was  still  a  door  through  which  I  could  escape  lent 
me  courage.  I  call  this  feeling  mean  for  the  very  reason 
that  I  am  not  responsible  to  anybody  except  to  myself, 
and  myself  I  cannot  deceive.  Yet  I  feel  that  even  to  my- 
self I  shall  not  give  a  strict  account,  because  in  so  far  as 
my  relations  to  Aniela  are  concerned  I  am  carried  away 
by  my  sensations.  I  still  feel  on  my  lips  the  touch  of 
her  hand, —  and  my  desires  are  simply  without  limit. 
Sooner  or  later  I  shall  myself  close  that  door  through 
which  I  could  still  escape.  But  could  I  still  escape  ? 
Y''es,  if  some  extraneous  circumstances  came  to  my 
aid. 

In  the  meanwhile  she  loves  me,  and  everything  draws 
me  towards  her.  To-day  I  asked  myself,  ''  If  it  is  to  be, 
why  put  it  off  ?  "  I  found  a  ready  answer :  "  Because  I  do 
not  want  to  lose  any  of  my  present  sensations ;  the  sud- 
den thrills,  the  charm  of  the  words  unspoken,  the  ques- 
tioning glances,  the  expectations.  I  wish  to  spin  out  the 
romance  to  the  very  end.  I  found  fault  with  women  that 
they  preferred  the  semblance  of  love  to  love  itself,  and 
now  I  am  quite  as  anxious  not  to  lose  any  of  its  outward 


44  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

manifestations.  But  as  one  gets  more  advanced  in  years 
one  attaches  greater  importance  to  these  things ;  and 
besides,  I  am  an  Epicurean  in  my  sensations." 

After  the  above  conversation  with  Aniela,  we  both  re- 
covered our  spirits.  During  evening  I  helped  her  in  the 
cutting  put  of  lampshades,  which  gave  me  the  opportu- 
nity to  touch  her  hands  and  dress.  I  hindered  her  with 
the  work  and  she  became  as  gay  as  a  child,  and  in  a 
child's  quick,  plaintive  voice  called  out,  "  Aunty,  Leon  is 
very  naughty." 


14  February. 

Ill  luck  would  have  it  that  I  accepted  an  invitation  to 
attend  a  meeting  at  Councillor  S.'s,  who  always  tries  to 
bring  together  representatives  of  all  shades  and  opinions, 
and  over  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  sandwich  to  bring  about  a 
mutual  understanding.  As  a  man  almost  continually 
living  abroad,  I  came  to  this  meeting  to  find  out  what 
was  going  on  in  the  minds  of  my  countrymen  and  listen 
to  their  reasonings.  The  crush  was  very  great,  which 
made  me  feel  uncomfortable,  and  at  the  same  time  hap- 
pened what  usually  happens  at  large  gatherings.  Those 
of  the  same  shade  of  opinion  congregated  in  separate 
rooms  to  pay  each  other  compliments  and  so  forth.  I 
was  made  acquainted  with  various  councillors  and  rep- 
resentatives of  the  press.  In  other  countries,  there  is 
a  considerable  difference  between  writers  and  journalists. 
The  first  is  considered  an  artist  and  a  thinker,  the  latter, 
a  mere  paragraph-monger  —  I  cannot  find  a  better  word. 
Here  there  is  no  such  distinction,  and  men  of  both  occu- 
pations are  known  under  the  same  collective  name  as 
literary  men.  The  greater  part  of  them  follow  both  avoca- 
tions, literature  and  journalism.  Personally,  they  are 
more  refined  than  the  journalists  I  met  abroad.  I  do 
not  like  the  daily  press,  and  consider  it  as  one  of  the 
plagues  sent  down  to  torment  humanity.     The  swiftness 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  45 

with  whicli  the  world  becomes  acquainted  with  current 
events  is  equal  to  the  superficiality  of  the  information, 
and  does  not  compensate  for  the  incredible  perversion  of 
public  opinion,  as  any  one  who  is  not  prejudiced  must 
perceive.  Thanks  to  the  daily  press,  the  sense  which 
knows  how  to  sift  the  true  from  the  false  has  become 
blunted,  the  notions  of  right  and  w^ong  have  well-nigh 
disappeared,  evil  stalks  about  in  the  garb  of  righteous- 
ness, and  oppression  speaks  the  language  of  justice ;  in 
brief,  the  human  soul  has  become  immoral  and  blind. 

There  was,  among  others,  also  Stawowski,  who  is  con- 
sidered a  leader  among  the  advanced  progressists.  He 
spoke  cleverly,  but  appeared  to  me  a  man  suffering  from 
a  two-fold  disease :  liver,  and  self.  He  carries  his  ego 
like  a  glass  of  water  filled  to  the  brim,  and  seems  to  say, 
"  Take  care,  or  it  will  spill,"  This  fear,  by  some  subtle  pro- 
cess, seems  to  communicate  itself  to  his  audience  to  such 
an  extent  that  nobody  dares  to  be  of  a  different  opinion. 
He  has  this  influence  over  others  because  he  believes  in 
what  he  says.  They  are  wrong,  those  who  consider  him 
a  sceptic.  On  the  contrary,  he  is  of  the  temperament 
which  makes  fanatics.  Had  he  been  born  a  hundred 
years  ago  and  been  a  judge,  he  would  have  sentenced 
people  to  have  their  tongues  cut  out  for  uttering  blas- 
phemy. Born  as  he  is  in  the  more  enlightened  times, 
he  hates  what  he  would  have  loved  then;  but  essen- 
tially it  is  the  same  man. 

I  noticed  that  our  conservatives  crowded  round  Sta- 
wowski, not  so  much  out  of  curiosity  to  hear  what  he 
said  as  rather  with  a  certain  watchful  coquetry.  Here, 
and  maybe  in  other  countries,  this  party  has  little  courage. 
They  looked  at  the  speaker  with  insinuating  smiles,  as 
if  they  would  say;  "Although  conservatives,  neverthe- 
less — "  Ah !  that  "  nevertheless  "  was  like  an  act  of 
contrition,  a  kind  of  submission.  This  was  so  evident 
that  I  who  am  a  sceptic  as  to  all  party  spirit,  began  to 
contradict  Stawowski,  not  as  a  representative  of  any 
party,  but  simply  as  a  man  who  is  of  a  different  opinion. 


46  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

My  audacity  excited  some  astonishment.  The  matter  in 
question  was  the  position  of  the  working-men.  iStawow- 
ski  spoke  of  their  hopeless  condition,  their  weakness  and 
incapacity  for  defending  themselves  ;  the  audience  which 
listened  to  his  words  grew  every  minute  larger,  when  I 
interrupted  :  — 

"  Do  you  believe  in  Darwin's  theory,  the  survival  of 
the  fittest  ?  " 

Stawowski,  who  is  a  naturalist  by  profession,  took  up 
the  challenge  at  once. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  he  said. 

"  Then  allow  me  to  point  out  to  you  that  you  are  in- 
consequent. If  I,  as  a  Christian,  care  for  the  weak  and 
defenceless,  I  do  so  by  the  doctrine  of  Christ ;  but  you, 
from  a  standpoint  of  a  struggle-for-life  existence,  ought 
to  see  it  in  a  different  light;  they  are  weak,  they  are 
foolish,  consequently  bound  to  succumb ;  it  is  a  capital 
law  of  nature,  —  let  the  weaker  go  to  perdition.  Why 
is  it  you  do  not  take  it  this  way  ?  please  explain  the 
contradiction." 

Whether  Stawowski  was  taken  aback  by  the  unex- 
pected opposition,  or  whether  he  really  had  never  put 
the  tv/o  things  together,  the  fact  was  that  he  was  at  a 
loss  for  a  ready  answer,  grew  confused,  and  did  not  even 
venture  upon  the  expression  "  altruism,"  which,  after  all, 
says  very  little. 

The  hero  of  the  evening  worsted,  the  conservatives 
came  over  to  me  in  a  body,  and  I  might  have  become 
the  hero  now ;  but  it  was  getting  late,  I  was  bored,  and 
wanted  to  get  back  to  Ploszow.  Gradually  the  others 
too  began  to  disperse.  I  was  already  in  my  fur  coat  and 
searching  for  my  eyeglasses,  that  had  slipped  between  the 
coat  and  furs,  when  Stawowski,  who  evidently  had  found 
his  answer,  came  up  to  me  and  said :  — 

"  You  asked  why  —  " 

I,  still  searching  for  the  eyeglasses  and  rather  put  out, 
said  impatiently :  — 

"  Plainly  speaking,  the  question  does  not  interest  me 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  47 

very  much.  It  is  getting  late  and  everybody  is  leaving ; 
besides  I  can  guess  what  you  are  going  to  say,  therefore 
permit  me  to  wish  you  good-night." 

I  fancy  I  have  made  an  enemy  of  the  man,  especially 
by  my  last  remark. 

It  was  one  o'clock  when  I  arrived  at  Ploszow,  and 
there  a  pleasant  surprise  awaited  me ;  Aniela  was  sit- 
ting up  to  make  some  tea  for  me.  I  found  her  in  the 
dining-room,  still  fully  dressed,  with  the  exception  of 
her  hair,  which  was  done  up  for  the  night.  From  the 
intense  delight  I  felt  in  seeing  her  thus  unexpectedly,  I 
perceived  how  deeply  she  had  entered  into  my  heart. 
What  a  dear  girl  she  is,  and  how  pretty  she  looks  with 
the  tresses  coiled  low  down  her  neck.  And  to  think  that 
I  have  only  to  say  the  word  and  in  a  mouth  or  two  I 
might  have  the  right  to  undo  those  tresses  and  let  them 
fall  on  her  shoulders.  I  cannot  think  of  it  quietly.  It 
seems  past  all  belief  that  happiness  should  be  so  easy  to 
get. 

I  began  to  scold  her  a  little  for  sitting  up  so  late,  and 
she  replied :  — 

"  But  I  was  not  in  the  least  sleepy,  and  begged  mamma 
and  aunty  to  let  me  sit  up  for  you.  Mamma  would  not 
allow  it,  said  it  was  not  proper ;  but  I  explained  to  her 
that  we  were  cousins,  and  that  makes  all  the  difference. 
And  do  you  know  who  took  my  part  ?  — auntie." 

"Dear  aunt!  You  will  take  some  tea  with  me,  will 
you  not  ?  " 

I  watched  her  handling  the  cups  with  those  deft,  grace- 
ful fingers,  and  felt  a  desire  to  kiss  them. 

She  looked  at  me  now  and  then,  but  upon  meeting  my 
eyes  her  eyelashes  drooped.  Presently  she  inquired  how 
I  had  spent  the  evening,  and  what  impressions  I  had 
carried  away.  We  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  -hough  the 
sleeping-rooms  were  far  enough  away  to  make  it  un- 
necessary. There  was  such  confidence  and  heartiness 
in  our  intercourse  as  among  relatives  who  are  fond  of 
each  other. 


48  \VITHOUT  DOGMA. 

I  told  her  what  I  had  seen  and  noticed,  as  one  tells  a 
friend.  I  spoke  about  the  general  impression  the  society 
of  the  country  makes  upon  a  man  that  has  chiefly  lived 
abroad.  She  listened  quietly  with  wide-open  eyes,  happy 
to  be  thus  taken  into  confidence.     Then  she  said  :  — 

"  Why  do  you  not  write  about  all  that,  Leon  ?  That  I 
do  not  think  of  such  things  is  not  to  be  wondered  at ;  but 
nobody  else  here  has  thoughts  like  these." 

*'  Why  do  I  not  write  ?  "  I  replied.  "  There  are  many 
reasons  for  it.  I  will  explain  to  you  some  time  ;  one  of 
them  is  that  I  have  nobody  near  me  who,  like  you,  says : 
'  Leon,  why  do  you  not  do  something  ?  '  " 

After  this  we  both  became  silent.  I  had  never  seen 
Aniela's  lashes  veil  her  eyes  so  closely,  and  I  could 
almost  hear  the  beating  of  her  heart. 

And  indeed  she  had  a  right  to  expect  me  to  say :  "  Will 
you  remain  with  me  always  and  put  the  same  question  ?  " 
But  I  found  such  a  keen  delight  in  skirting  the  precipice 
before  making  the  final  plunge,  and  feeling  that  heart 
palpitating  almost  in  my  hand  that  I  could  not  do  it. 

"  Good-night,"  I  said,  after  a  short  time. 

And  that  angelic  creature  gave  not  the  slightest  sign 
that  she  had  met  with  a  disappointment.  She  rose,  and 
with  the  least  touch  of  sadness  in  her  voice,  but  no  im- 
patience, replied :  "  Good-night." 

We  shook  hands  and  parted  for  the  night.  My  hand 
was  already  on  the  latch,  when  I  turned  round  and  saw 
her  still  standing  near  the  table. 

"  Aniela !  Tell  me,"  I  said,  "  do  you  not  think  jne  a 
fantastic  kind  of  man,  full  of  whims  and  fancies  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  not  fantastic ;  sometimes  I  think  you  a  little 
strange,  but  then  I  say  to  myself  that  men  liike  you  are 
bound  to  be  different  from  others." 

"  One  question  more ;  when  was  it  you  thought  me 
strange  the  first  time  ?  " 

Aniela  blushed  to  the  tips  of  her  ears.  How  pretty 
she  looked  with  the  pink  flame  spreading  over  her  faoe 
and  neck. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  49 

«Ko,  1  could  not  tell  you." 

*'  Then  let  me  guess,  and  if  I  am  right  say  yes.  It  is 
a  single  word." 

"  What  word  ?  "  she  asked,  with  increased  confusion. 

"  Tablets.     Yes,  or  no  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Aniela,  with  drooping  eyes. 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you  why  I  wrote  those  words.  First, 
because  I  wanted  a  link  connecting  us  together,  a  little 
secret  shared  by  both  of  us,  and  also  —  " 

I  pointed  at  the  flowers  the  gardener  had  brought  from 
the  hot-house. 

"You  know  flowers  want  light  to  bring  out  all  their 
beauty,  and  I  wanted  plenty  of  light  for  our  atmos- 
phere." 

"  I  cannot  always  follow  you,"  she  said,  after  a  mo- 
mentary silence,  *'  but  I  trust  you,  yes,  and  believe  in 
you." 

We  remained  once  more  silent ;  I  pressed  her  hand 
again,  saying  good-night.  We  stopped  near  the  door, 
and  our  eyes  met.  The  waters  begin  to  rise  and  to  rise. 
They  will  overstep  their  boundary  any  moment. 


23  February. 

The  human  being,  like  the  sea,  has  his  ebb  and  flood 
tides.  To-day  my  will,  my  energy,  the  very  action  of  life 
are  at  a  very  low  tide.  It  came  upon  me  without  warn- 
ing, a  mere  matter  of  nerves.  But  for  that  very  reason 
my  thoughts  are  full  of  bitterness.  What  right  have  I, 
a  man  physically  worn  out  and  mentally  exhausted,  to 
marry  at  all  ?  Involuntarily  the  words  of  Hamlet  come 
in  my  mind :  "  Get  thee  to  a  nunnery ;  why  wouldst  thou 
be  a  breeder  of  sinners  ?  "  I  shall  not  bury  myself  within 
cloister  walls.  The  future  sinners  will  be  like  me,  all 
nerves,  oversensitive,  not  fit  for  any  practical  life,  —  in 
fact,  artists  without  portfolios.  But  the  deuce  take  it, 
it  is  not  they,  but  Aniela  I  am  thinking  of.     Have  I 

4 


50  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

a  right  to  marry  her,  — to  link  that  fresh  budding  life, 
full  of  simple  faith  in  God  and  the  world,  to  my  doubts, 
my  spiritual  impotence,  my  hopeless  scepticism,  my  criti- 
cism and  nerves  ?  What  will  be  the  result  of  it  for  her  ? 
I  cannot  regain  another  spiritual  youth,  and  even  at  her 
side  cannot  find  my  old  self ;  my  brains  cannot  change,  or 
my  nerves  grow  more  vigorous,  —  and  what  then  ?  Is  she 
to  wither  at  my  side  ?  It  would  be  simply  monstrous.  I 
to  play  the  part  of  a  polypus  that  sucks  the  life-blood  of 
its  victims  in  order  to  renew  its  own  life  !  A  heavy 
cloud  weighs  on  my  brain.  But  if  such  be  the  case  why 
did  I  allow  it  to  go  so  far  ?  What  have  I  been  doing 
ever  since  I  met  Aniela  ?  Playing  on  her  very  heart- 
strings to  bring  forth  sweet  music.  And  yet,  what  for 
me  was  "  Quasi  una  fantasia  "  may  prove  to  her  "  Quasi 
un  dolore."  Yes,  I  have  played  on  that  sensitive  instru- 
ment from  morning  until  night ;  and  what  is  more,  I 
feel  that  in  spite  of  my  self-upbraidings,  I  shall  do  the 
same  to-morrow  and  the  days  following,  for  I  cannot  help 
it ;  she  attracts  me  more  than  any  woman  I  ever  met,  I 
desire  her  above  all  things  —  I  love  her  ! 

Why  delude  myself  any  longer  ?  —  I  love  her  ! 

What  is  to  be  done  ?  Must  I  go  away  back  to  Kome  ? 
That  means  a  disappointment  and  sorrow  for  her ;  for 
who  knows  how  deeply  rooted  her  feelings  may  be  ? 
To  marry  her  is  the  same  as  to  sacrifice  her  for  myself, 
and  make  her  life  unhappy  in  another  way.  A  truly 
enchanted  circle  !  Only  people  of  the  Ploszowski  species 
ever  get  into  such  dilemmas.  And  there  is  devilish 
little  comfort  in  the  thought  that  there  are  more  such 
as  I,  or  that  their  name  is  legion. 

Whether  the  species  be  gradually  dying  out,  as  badly 
fitted  for  the  struggle  of  life,  remains  to  be  seen ;  for  in 
addition  to  an  incapacity  for  life,  there  is  ill  luck  as 
well.  I  might  have  met  such  an  Aniela  ten  years  ago, 
when  my  sails  were  not,  as  now,  worn  to  shreds  and 
patches. 

If  that  honest  soul,  my  aunt,  knew  how,  with  the  best 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  51 

of  intentions,  she  brought  me  to  this  pass,  she  Avould  be 
truly  grieved.      There  was  tragedy  enough  in  my  life, 

—  the  consciousness  of  utter  failure,  the  dark  mist  in 
which  my  thoughts  were  straying ;  now  there  is  a  new, 

—  to  be,  or  not  to  be ;  but  no,  it  is  far  worse  than  that ! 


26  February. 

Yesterday  I  went  again,  to  Warsaw  by  appointment,  to 
meet  a  certain  Pan  Julius  Keo,  on  whose  estates  I  lodged 
part  of  the  capital  I  inherited  from  my  mother.  Pan 
Julius  Keo  wants  to  pay  off  the  mortgage,  and  asked  me 
to  meet  him  at  a  fixed  time ;  and  I  waited  for  him  the 
whole  day.  The  devil  take  their  ways  of  managing  any 
business  in  this  country !  He  will  make  five  other 
appointments,  and  not  keep  one.  He  is  very  rich, 
wants  to  get  rid  of  the  mortgage,  and  is  able  to  pay  it 
off  any  time  ;  and  yet  —  such  is  our  way  of  transacting 
business. 

From  my  own  observations  I  long  since  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  in  money  matters  we  are  the  most 
flighty  and  unbusinesslike  people  in  the  world.  I,  who 
like  to  go  to  the  root  of  matters,  often  pondered  over 
this  phenomenon. 

According  to  my  ideas,  this  is  the  result  of  the  purely 
agricultural  occupation  of  the  people.  Commerce  was 
in  the  hands  of  the  Jews,  and  these  could  not  teach  us 
accuracy ;  the  cultivator  of  the  soil  is  unreliable  because 
the  soil  is  unreliable,  he  is  unpunctual  because  nature 
has  no  punctuality.  Working  in  the  soil,  they  gradually 
take  some  of  its  characteristics,  which  enters  into  their 
moral  being,  and  in  the  course  of  time  becomes  an  inher- 
ited defect. 

The  knowledge  of  cause  and  effect  does  not  restore 
me  to  an  equable  temper.  I  had  to  tear  myself  away 
from  Aniela  for  a  whole  day,  and  what  is  more,  shall 
have  to  go  through  the  some  process  a  few  days  hence  ; 
but  it  cannot  be  helped.     In  my  aunt's  house  I  found 


62  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

visiting-cards  from  Kromitzki,  —  one  for  me  and  two  for 
the  elder  ladies.  I  was  afraid  he  might  take  it  into  his 
head  to  pay  us  a  visit  at  Ploszow ;  to  avoid  that,  I  went 
out  to  leave  my  card  on  him.  Unfortunately  for  me,  he 
was  at  home,  and  I  had  to  stay  half  an  hour.  He  began 
his  conversation  by  telling  me  that  he  had  promised  to 
call  at  Ploszow ;  to  which  I  replied  that  we  had  gone 
there  merely  for  a  few  days,  and  would  be  back  in  town 
almost  immediately.  He  askpd  after  Aniela's  mother, 
and  very  guardedly  after  Aniela  herself.  He  evidently 
wanted  to  impress  me  with  the  fact  that  he  inquired  as 
a  mere  acquaintance.  I  am  so  impressionable  that  even 
this  gave  me  a  twinge ;  how  I  loathe  that  man  !  I  fancy 
the  Tartars  under  Batu  Klian  must  have  played  many 
pranks  in  what  is  to-day  Austrian  Silesia,  when  looting 
the  country  after  the  battle  of  Liegnitz.  That  those 
black  eyes,  like  roasted  coffee-berries,  did  not  come  from 
Silesian  ancestors,  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt. 

He  was  exceedingly  polite  to  me,  because  I  am  rich. 
It  is  true,  he  wants  nothing  from  me,  —  I  do  not  give 
him  anything,  and  my  being  rich  is  of  no  advantage  to 
him  ;  but  as  a  financier  he  worships  money.  We  spoke 
about  the  difficulties  in  which  Aniela's  mother  was  and 
is  still  involved.  According  to  Kromitzki,  a  great  deal 
of  her  fortune  might  still  be  saved  if  she  would  part 
with  the  estate.  Kromitzki  looks  upon  the  reluctance 
to  part  with  ancestral  lands  as  a  mere  fad.  He  said 
he  might  be  able  to  understand  it  if  she  had  the 
means  to  prevent  it,  but  as  the  case  stood  it  was  mere 
sentimentality. 

He  is  very  talkative,  and  discussed  at  some  length  our 
national  idiocy.  Money  was  lying  on  the  pavement,  to 
be  had  for  the  picking  up.  His  father,  like  other  noble- 
men, had  left  scarcely  any  fortune  ;  when  all  debts  were 
cleared  off  there  remained  a  paltry  hundred  thousand 
florins,  and  the  world  knew  how  he,  Kromitzki,  stood 
at  present. 

"  If  that  business  in  Turkestan  comes  off,  I  shall  be 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  53 

able  to  wind  up  my  affairs.  The  Jews  and  Greeks  have 
made  millions  in  the  contract  business ;  why  should  not 
we  be  able  to  do  as  well  ?  I  do  not  put  myself  as  an 
example ;  but  I  say,  why  should  we  not  ?  There  is 
room  for  everybody,  —  why  not  go  in  for  it  ?  " 

According  to  my  opinion,  Kromitzki  has  a  certain 
aptness  for  business,  but  is  foolish  in  a  general  sense. 
That  we  are  shiftless,  everybody  knows  that;  and  that 
here  and  there  somebody  makes  a  fortune  by  contracts, 
I  can  well  believe ;  but  the  greater  part  of  the  people 
must  work  at  home,  and  not  look  for  millions  from  con- 
tracts in  Turkestan. 

May  God  save  Aniela  from  an  alliance  with  that  man. 
He  may  have  some  good  qualities,  but  he  belongs  to  a 
different  moral  type.  If  there  be  a  worse  fate  in  store 
for  her,  ought  I  to  hesitate  any  longer  ? 


28  February. 
The  elder  ladies  seem  uneasy  that  the  affair  is  not  go- 
ing on  as  speedily  as  they  had  fancied ;  my  aunt,  who  is 
of  an  impatient  temper,  must  chafe  inwardly  not  a  little. 
But  the  expression  of  happiness  on  Aniela's  face  soothes 
them,  and  allays  their  fears.  I  can  read  in  her  eyes 
endless  trust  and  thorough  belief  in  me.  She  fills  my 
thoughts  so  that  I  cannot  think  of  anything  but  her.  I 
desire  her  more  and  more,  and  do  not  want  to  play 
upon  her  feelings  any  longer,  —  I  want  her. 


4  March. 
This  day  has  been  to  me  of  so  much  importance  that  I 
am  obliged  to  muster  all  my  calmness  and  self-possession 
to  put  down  everything  in  its  proper  order.  Neverthe- 
less, I  cannot  contain  myself.  The  die  is  cast,  or  as 
good  as  cast.  I  could  not  have  gone  on  quietly,  had 
I  not  put  that  down. 


54  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

And  now  I  can  begin.  Sniatynski  and  his  wife 
arrived  here  towards  noon,  for  an  early  dinner.  He  had 
to  go  back,  as  a  new  play  of  his  is  coming  out  at  the 
theatre.  However  happy  we  may  be  in  our  rural  se- 
clusion, we  are  always  delighted  to  see  them.  Aniela 
is  great  friends  with  Pani  Sniatynska,  and  I  suppose 
there  will  be  an  exchange  of  confidences.  Pani  Snia- 
tynska guessed  at  the  state  of  things,  and  tried  to 
put  her  hand  to  the  wheel,  to  make  the  cart  go  a 
little  faster.  She  had  only  just  arrived,  when  she  said 
to  my  aunt :  — 

"  How  lovely  and  peaceful  everything  is  here !  No 
wonder  the  young  people  there  do  not  pine  after  the  dis- 
sipations of  town." 

We  both,  Aniela  and  I,  understood  perfectly  well  that 
Pani  Sniatynska,  calling  us  the  young  people,  was  not 
referring  only  to  our  age.  Besides,  she  repeated  the 
same  thing  several  times  during  dinner :  "  the  young 
people,"  "  the  young  couple,"  as  if  making  a  pointed  dif- 
ference between  us  two  and  the  elder  ladies.  But  there 
was  such  real  sympathy  for  us  in  the  friendly  eyes  ;  such 
a  pricking  up  of  her  little  ears  to  hear  what  we  were 
saying  to  each  other ;  and  the  little  woman  looked  so 
charming  withal  that  I  forgive  her  readily  her  good- 
natured  meddling.  I  have  arrived  at  such  a  state  of 
infatuation  that  this  coupling  of  our  names  rather  glad- 
dens than  irritates  me.  Aniela  too  seemed  to  hear  it 
with  pleasure.  In  her  efforts  to  please  the  Sniatynskis 
and  the  attentions  she  bestowed  on  them  during  dinner, 
she  truly  looked  like  a  young  bride,  who  receives  dear 
visitors  for  the  first  time  in  her  new  home.  At  the  sight 
of  this  my  aunt's  heart  seemed  to  swell,  and  she  said 
many  kind  and  polite  things  to  both  Sniatynskis.  I  no- 
ticed a  wonderful  thing,  which  I  should  not  believe  had 
I  not  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes.  Pani  Sniatynska 
blushes  up  to  her  ears  when  anybody  praises  her  hus- 
band !  To  blush  with  pleasure  when  her  husband  is 
praised  after  eight  years   of  married  life !     Surely,  I 


WITHOUT  DOGMA/  55 

committed  an  egregious  mistake  writing  as  I  did  about 
Polish  women. 

The  dinner  passed  off  very  pleasantly.  A  married 
couple,  like  these  two,  are  born  matchmakers.  The 
very  sight  of  them  sets  people  thinking :  "  If  married 
life  is  like  that,  let  us  go  and  commit  matrimony."  I 
at  least  saw  it  for  the  first  time  in  a  quite  different 
light,  —  not  as  the  prose  of  life,  a  commonplace,  more 
or  less  skilfully  disguised  indifference,  but  as  a  thing  to 
be  desired. 

Aniela  evidently  read  our  future  in  the  same  light ;  I 
saw  it  in  her  eyes  shining  with  happiness. 

After  dinner  I  remained  in  the  dining-room  with  Snia- 
tynski,  who  liked  a  quiet  talk  over  a  glass  of  cognac 
after  his  coffee.  The  elder  ladies  went  to  the  drawing- 
room,  and  Aniela  took  Pani  Sniatynska  upstairs  to  show 
her  some  photographs  of  Volhynia.  I  questioned  Snia- 
tynski  about  his  new  play,  the  fate  of  which  seemed  to 
make  him  a  little  anxious.  Our  conversation  drifted  on 
to  those  times  when  we  both  tried  our  sprouting  wings. 
He  told  me  how  afterwards,  step  by  step,  he  had  worked 
his  way  upward ;  how  he  had  been  full  of  doubts,  and 
still  doubted  his  power,  in  spite  of  having  acquired  a 
certain  reputation. 

"  Tell  me,"  I  asked,  "  what  do  you  do  with  your 
fame  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  mean  what  I  do  with  my  fame  ?  " 

"For  instance,  do  you  wear  it  as  a  crown  on  your 
head,  or  as  a  golden  fleece  round  your  neck  ?  do  you  put 
it  over  your  writing-desk,  or  hang  it  up  in  your  drawing- 
room  ?  I  only  ask  as  a  man  who  has  no  idea  what  to  do 
with  it  if  he  once  obtains  it  ?  " 

"  Let  us  suppose  I  have  won  it ;  the  man  must  be 
deuced  ill-bred  mentally  either  to  wear  the  so-called 
fame  as  an  ornament  or  to  put  it  up  for  show.  I  con- 
fess that  at  first  it  gratifies  one's  vanity;  but  only  a 
spiritual  parvenu  would  find  it  sufficient  to  fill  the  whole 
life,  or  take  the  place  of  real  happiness.     It  is  quite  au' 


56  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

other  thing  to  be  conscious  you  are  doing  good  work; 
that  the  public  appreciates  it,  and  that  your  work  calls 
forth  an  echo  in  other  minds, — a  public  man  has  the 
right  to  feel  pleased  with  that.  But  as  to  feeling  grati- 
fied when  somebody,  looking  more  or  less  foolish,  comes 
up  and  says :  '  We  are  indebted  to  you  for  so  much  plea- 
sure ; '  or,  when  a  dinner  does  not  agree  with  me,  our 
daily  press  remarks  :  '  We  communicate  to  our  readers 
the  sad  news  that  our  famous  XX.  suffers  from  a  stomach- 
ache,' —  pshaw !  what  do  you  take  me  for,  that  such  a 
thing  could  give  me  satisfaction  ?  " 

"  Listen,"  I  said,  "  I  am  not  inordinately  vain ;  but  I 
confess  that,  when  people  speak  of  my  extraordinary 
talents,  and  regret  that  I  make  not  a  better  use  of  them, 
it  flatters  me ;  and  though  I  feel  more  than  ever  my 
uselessness,  it  gives  me  pleasure ;  humankind  is  fond  of 
approbation." 

"  That  is  because  you  pity  yourself,  and  in  that  you 
are  quite  right.  But  you  are  turning  away  from  the  ques- 
tion. I  do  not  say  that  it  would  give  one  pleasure  to  be 
called  an  ass." 

"  But  the  public  esteem  that  goes  hand  in  hand  with 
fame  ?  " 

Sniatynski,  who  is  very  lively  and  always  walks  about 
the  room,  sitting  down  on  any  table  or  chair,  now  sat  on 
the  window-sill,  and  replied  :  — 

"Public  esteem  ?  You  are  wrong  there,  old  fellow  ; 
there  is  no  such  thing.  Ours  is  a  strange  society,  domi- 
nated by  a  pure  republican  jealousy.  I  write  plays, 
work  for  the  stage  ;  very  good.  I  have  gained  a  certain 
reputation ;  better  still.  Now,  these  plays  excite  the  jeal- 
ousy, —  of  another  playwright,  you  think  ?  Not  at  all ;  it 
is  the  engineer,  the  bank  clerk,  the  teacher,  the  physi- 
cian, the  railway  official,  —  in  short,  people  who  never 
wrote  a  play  in  their  lives,  —  that  envy  you.  All  these 
in  their  intercourse  will  show  that  they  do  not  think 
much  of  you,  will  speak  slightingly  of  you  behind  your 
back;  and  belittle  you  on  purpose,  so  as  to  add  an  inch  gr 


WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


67 


two  to  their  own  height.  '  Sniatynski  ?  who  is  he  ?  Yes, 
I  remember ;  he  dresses  at  the  same  tailor  as  I.'  Such  is 
fame,  my  dear  fellow." 

"  But  it  must  be  worth  something,  since  people  risk 
their  lives  for  it  ?  " 

Sniatynski  grew  thoughtful,  and  replied  with  a  certain 
gravity :  — 

"  In  private  life  it  is  worth  something ;  you  can  make 
a  footstool  of  it  for  the  woman  you  love." 

"You  will  gain  a  new  fame  by  this  definition." 

Sniatynski  rushed  at  me  with  lively  impetuosity. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  put  all  your  laurels  into  a  cushion,  go  to 
the  dear  one,  and  say  to  her :  '  This  for  which  people  risk 
their  lives ;  this  which  they  consider  supreme  happiness, 
appreciate  more  than  wealth,  —  I  have  got  it,  striven  for 
it ;  and  now  put  your  dear  feet  on  it  at  once.'  If  you  do 
this,  you  will  be  loved  all  your  life.  You  wanted  to  know 
what  fame  is  good  for,  and  there  you  are." 

Further  discussions  were  cut  short  by  the  entrance  of 
Pani  Sniatynska  and  Aniela.  They  were  dressed  for 
going  out  to  the  hot-houses.  "WTiat  an  imp  of  mischief 
lurks  in  that  little  woman.  She  came  up  to  her  husband 
to  ask  his  permission  to  go  out,  which  he  granted,  insist- 
ing only  that  she  should  wrap  herself  up  warm ;  she 
turned  to  me  and  said  with  a  roguish  smile,  — 

"  You  will  let  Aniela  go,  will  you  not  ?  " 

That  Aniela  should  blush  furiously  was  only  natural, 
but  that  I,  an  old  stager,  a  razor  sharpened  against  the 
strops  of  so  many  experiences,  should  have  betrayed  so 
much  confusion,  I  cannot  forgive  myself.  But,  putting 
on  a  semblance  of  self-possession,  I  went  up  to  Aniela, 
and  raising  her  hand  to  my  lips,  said  :  — 

"  It  is  Aniela  who  gives  orders  at  Ploszow,  and  I  am 
her  humble  subject." 

I  should  have  liked  to  take  Sniatynski  with  me  and 
join  the  excursion,  but  refrained.  I  felt  a  want  to  speak 
about  Aniela,  my  future  marriage,  and  I  knew  that 
sooner  or  later  Sniatynski  himself  would  broach  the 


68  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

question.  I  gave  him  an  opening  after  the  ladies  had 
left  ns  by  saying  ;  — 

"  And  do  you  still  believe  as  firmly  as  ever  in  your 
life-dogmas  ?  " 

**  More  than  ever,  or  rather,  the  same  as  ever.  There  is 
no  expression  more  worn  to  tatters  than  the  word  '  love  ; ' 
one  scarcely  likes  to  use  it ;  but  between  ourselves,  I  tell 
you;  love  in  the  general  meaning,  love  in  the  individual 
sense  does  not  permit  of  criticism.  It  is  one  of  the 
canons  of  life.  My  philosophy  consists  in  not  philoso- 
phizing about  it  at  all,  —  and  the  deuce  take  me  if  for 
the  matter  of  that,  I  consider  myself  more  foolish  than 
other  people.  With  love,  life  is  worth  something  ;  with- 
out, it  is  not  worth  a  bag  of  chaff." 

"Let  us  see  what  you  have  to  say  about  individual 
love,  —  or  better  still,  put  in  its  place  woman." 

"  Very  well,  let  it  be  woman." 

"  My  good  friend,  do  you  not  perceive  on  what  brittle 
foundation  you  are  building  human  happiness  ?  " 

"  On  about  as  brittle  a  foundation  as  life,  —  no  more 
nor  less  ! " 

I  did  not  want  to  drift  into  a  discussion  of  life  and 
death,  and  pulled  Sniatynski  up. 

"  For  mercy's  sake,  do  not  generalize  about  individual 
happiness.  You  chanced  to  find  the  right  woman, 
another  might  not." 

He  would  not  even  listen  to  that.  According  to  his 
view,  ninety  out  of  a  hundred  were  successful.  Women 
were  better,  purer,  and  nobler  than  men. 

"  We  are  rascals  all,  in  comparison  with  them  !  "  he 
shouted,  waving  his  arms  and  shaking  his  leonine  mane. 
*'  Nothing  but  rascals  !  It  is  I  who  say  it,  —  I,  who  study 
mankind  closely,  if  only  for  the  reason  that  I  am  a  play- 
wright." 

He  was  sitting  astride  on  his  chair,  attacking  me,  as  it 
were,  with  the  chairback,  and  went  on  with  his  usual 
impetuosity :  — 

*' There  are,  as  Dumas  says,  apes  from  the  land  of 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  69 

Nod,  who  know  neither  curb  nor  bridle ;  but  what  are 
eyes  given  for  but  to  see  that  you  do  not  take  to  wife  an 
ape  from  Nod  ?  Generally  speaking  a  woman  does  not 
betray  her  husband  nor  deceive  him,  unless  he  himself 
corrupts  her  heart,  tramples  on  her  feelings,  or  repulses 
and  estranges  her  by  his  meanness,  his  selfishness,  nar- 
rowness, and  his  miserable,  worthless  nature.  You  must 
love  her !  Let  her  feel  that  she  is  not  only  your  female, 
but  the  crown  of  your  head,  as  precious  as  your  child 
and  friend ;  wear  her  close  to  your  heart,  let  her  feel  the 
warmth  of  it,  and  you  may  rest  in  peace ;  year  after  year 
she  will  cling  closer  to  you,  until  you  two  are  like  Sia- 
mese twins.  If  you  do  not  give  her  all  that,  you  pervert 
her,  estrange  her  by  your  worthlessness,  —  and  she  will 
leave  you.  She  will  leave  you  as  soon  as  she  sees  nobler 
hands  stretched  out  for  her ;  she  is  forced  to  do  it,  as 
this  warmth,  this  appreciation,  are  as  necessary  to  her 
life  as  the  air  she  breathes." 

He  charged  me  with  the  chairback  as  with  a  battering 
ram.  I  retreated  before  him  until  we  had  come  close  to 
the  window ;  there  he  jumped  up. 

"  How  blind  you  are !  In  presence  of  such  social 
drought,  such  utter  absence  of  general  happiness  as 
stamps  our  time,  not  to  grasp  this  felicity  that  is  within 
reach !  Shiver  on  the  forum,  and  not  light  a  fire  at  home  ! 
Idiotism  can  go  no  farther  1  I  tell  you  plainly,  go  and 
get  married." 

He  pointed  through  the  window  at  Aniela,  who  with  his 
wife  was  coming  back  from  the  hot-houses,  and  added  : 
"There  is  your  happiness.  There  it  patters  in  fur  boots 
on  the  frozen  snow.  Take  her  by  weight  of  gold,  by 
weight  in  carats  rather  !  You  simply  have  no  home,  not 
only  in  a  physical  sense,  but  in  a  moral,  intellectual 
meaning ;  you  have  no  basis,  no  point  of  rest,  and  she 
will  give  you  all  that.  But  do  not  philosophize  her  away 
as  you  have  philosophized  away  your  abilities  and  your 
thirty-five  years  of  life  ! " 

He  could  not  have  told  me  anything  better,  nobler,  oj 


60  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

what  chimed  in  more  with  my  own  desires.  I  pressed 
his  hands  and  replied :  — 

"No,  I  will  not  philosophize  her  away,  because  I  love 
her." 

Upon  this  the  ladies  entered,  and  Pani  Sniatynska 
observed :  — 

"  We  heard  some  disputes  when  we  were  leaving,  but 
I  see  peace  is  restored.  May  I  ask  what  you  have  been 
discussing  ?  " 

"  Woman,  madame,"  I  said. 

"  And  what  was  the  result  ?  " 

"  As  you  see,  a  treaty  of  peace  sealed  by  a  grasp  of 
the  hand,  and  something  further  may  come  of  it  in  the 
course  of  time." 

The  sledge  was  already  waiting  at  the  door.  The  short 
day  was  drawing  to  its  close,  and  they  had  to  go  back ; 
but  as  the  weather  was  calm,  and  the  snow  on  the  drive 
as  smooth  as  a  parquetted  floor,  we  resolved,  Aniela  and 
I,  to  accompany  them  as  far  as  the  high-road. 

And  so  we  did.  After  having  said  good-by  to  our 
charming  visitors,  we  went  slowly  homeward.  It  was 
already  dusk  ;  in  the  dim  light  I  could  still  see  Aniela's 
face.  She  seemed  moved,  perhaps  had  opened  her  heart 
to  Pani  Sniatynska,  and  even  now  hoped  for  the  long  de- 
ferred word.  It  was  almost  burning  on  my  tongue ;  but, 
oh,  wonder  !  I  who  never  yet  had  lost  all  my  self-posses- 
sion, I  who  was  used  to  play  upon  heartstrings,  who  at  a 
fencing  match  of  that  kind,  if  not  cleverly,  at  least  with 
perfect  composure  guarded  myself  against  the  most 
masterly  strokes,  I  was  as  deeply  moved  as  a  lad  in  his 
teens.  What  a  difference  from  former  sentiments.  I 
was  afraid  I  could  not  find  words  to  express  myself,  — 
and  remained  silent. 

Thus  in  silence  we  approached  the  veranda.  Ths 
snow  was  slippery ;  I  offered  her  my  arm,  and  when  she 
leaned  on  it  I  felt  how  all  my  desires  were  centred  in 
her.  The  feeling  grew  so  intense  that  it  thrilled  my 
?łerves  like  electric  sparks.    We  entered  the  hall.    There 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  61 

was  nobody  there ;  not  even  the  lamps  were  lit,  the  only- 
light  came  in  fitful  gleams  from  the  open  stoves.  In  this 
half-light  and  in  silence  I  began  to  relieve  Aniela  of  her 
furs,  when  suddenly  the  warmth  emanating  from  her  body 
seemed  to  enter  into  my  veins ;  I  put  my  arm  around 
her,  and  drawing  her  close  to  me  I  pressed  my  lips  on  her 
brow. 

It  was  done  almost  unconsciously,  and  Aniela  must 
have  been  greatly  startled,  for  she  made  not  the  slightest 
resistance.  Presently  a  footstep  became  audible  ;  it  was 
the  servant  with  the  lamps.  She  went  upstairs,  and  I, 
deeply  moved,  entered  the  dining-room. 

To  every  man  who  is  ever  so  little  enterprising,  similar 
events  occur  in  the  course  of  life.  I  am  no  exception, 
but,  as  a  rule,  I  always  kept  the  mastery  over  myself. 
Kow  it  was  different.  Thoughts  and  sensations  whirled 
across  my  brain  like  leaves  before  a  gale.  Fortunately 
the  dining-room  was  empty ;  my  aunt  and  Aniela's  mother 
were  in  the  drawing-room,  where  I  joined  them  after 
a  while.  My  thoughts  were  so  far  away  that  I  scarcely 
heard  what  they  were  saying  to  me.  I  felt  restless.  I 
seemed  to  see  Aniela  sitting  in  her  room,  pressing  her 
hands  to  her  temples,  trying  to  realize  what  it  all  meant. 
Soon  Aniela  herself  came  down.  I  felt  relieved,  as  I 
had  feared  she  might  not  come  down  again  for  the  eve- 
ning. She  had  two  burning  spots  on  either  side  of  her 
face,  and  eyes  bright  as  if  from  recent  slumber.  She  had 
tried  to  cool  her  face  with  powder ;  I  saw  the  traces  on 
her  left  temple.  The  sight  of  her  moved  me ;  I  felt  that 
I  loved  her  deeply. 

Presently  she  stooped  over  some  needlework.  I  saw 
that  her  breath  came  and  went  irregularly,  and  once  or 
twice  I  intercepted  a  quick  glance  full  of  unsettled  ques- 
tions and  trouble. 

In  order  to  set  her  mind  at  rest  I  thrust  myself  into 
the  conversation  of  the  elder  ladies,  who  were  speaking 
about  Sniatynski,  and  said  :  — 

"  Sniatynski  considers  me  a  kind  of  Hamlet,  and  says 


62  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

I  philosophize  too  much ;  but  I  am  going  to  show  him 
that  he  is  mistaken,  and  that  not  later  than  to-morrow." 

I  laid  some  stress  on  the  "to-morrow,"  and  Aniela 
caught  the  meaning,  for  she  gave  me  a  long  look  ;  but 
my  aunt,  all  unconscious,  asked  :  — 

"  Are  you  going  to  see  him  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  We  ought  to  go  and  see  his  play,  and  if  Aniela  agrees 
we  will  all  go  to-morrow." 

The  dear  girl  looked  at  me  shyly  but  trustingly,  and 
said,  with  indescribable  sweetness  :  — 

"  I  will  go  with  great  pleasure." 

There  was  a  moment  when  I  could  scarcely  contain 
myself,  and  felt  I  ought  to  speak  there  and  then;  but 
I  had  said  "  to-morrow,"  and  refrained. 

I  feel  like  a  man  who  shuts  his  eyes  and  ears  before 
taking  the  final  plunge.  But  I  really  think  it  is  a  costly 
pearl  1  shall  find  at  the  bottom  of  the  deep. 


Casa  Osoria,  6  March. 
Yesterday  I  arrived  at  Rome.  My  father  is  not  quite 
so  bad  as  I  had  feared.  His  left  arm  and  the  left  side 
of  his  body  are  almost  paralyzed,  but  the  doctor  tells 
me  his  heart  is  not  threatened,  and  that  he  may  live  for 
years. 

7  March. 

I  left  Aniela  in  doubt,  expectation,  and  suspense.  But 
I  could  not  do  otherwise.  The  day  following  the  Snia- 
tynskis'  visit,  the  very  day  I  was  going  to  ask  Aniela  to 
be  my  wife,  I  received  a  letter  from  my  father  telling  me 
about  his  illness. 

"  Make  haste,  dear  boy,"  he  wrote,  "  for  I  should  like 
to  see  you  before  I  die,  and  I  feel  my  bark  very  close  to 
the  shore." 

After  the  receipt  of  such  a  letter  I  took  the  first  train, 
and  never  stopped  until  I  reached  Eome.     When  leaving 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  63 

Ploszow  I  had  very  little  hope  to  find  my  father  alive. 
In  vain  my  aunt  tried  to  comfort  me,  saying  if  things 
were  so  bad  he  would  surely  have  sent  a  telegram  instead 
of  a  letter. 

I  know  my  father's  little  oddities,  among  which  is  a 
rooted  dislike  to  telegrams.  But  my  aunt's  composure 
was  only  put  on,  at  the  bottom  she  felt  as  frightened  as. 
myself. 

In  the  hurry,  the  sudden  shock,  and  under  the  horror 
of  my  father's  likely  death,  I  could  not  speak  of  love 
and  marriage.  It  seemed  against  nature,  almost  a  brutal 
thing,  to  whisper  words  of  love,  not  knowing  whether  at 
the  same  time  my  father  might  not  be  breathing  his  last. 
They  all  understood  that,  and  especially  Aniela. 

"  I  will  write  to  you  from  Rome,"  I  said  before  start- 
ing ;  to  which  she  replied :  "  May  God  comfort  you  first." 

She  trusts  me  altogether.  Rightly  or  wrongl}^,  I  have 
the  reputation  of  fickleness  in  regard  to  women,  and 
Aniela  must  have  heard  remarks  about  it ;  maybe  it  is 
for  that  very  reason  the  dear  girl  shows  such  unbounded 
confidence  in  me.  I  understand,  and  can  almost  hear  the 
pure  soul  saying :  "  They  wrong  you,  —  you  are  not  fickle ; 
and  those  who  accuse  you  of  fickleness  do  not  know  what 
love  means,  and  did  not  love  you  as  truly  and  deeply  as 
I  love  you." 

Perhaps  I  am  a  little  fickle  by  nature,  and  this  disposi- 
tion, developed  under  the  influence  of  the  barren,  empty, 
worthless  sentiments  I  met  with  in  the  world,  —  this 
might  have  dried  up  my  heart  and  corrupted  it  altogether ; 
in  which  case  Aniela  would  have  to  pay  for  the  sins  of 
others.  But  I  believe  the  case  is  not  hopeless,  and  the 
blessed  physician  has  not  come  too  late.  Who  knows 
whether  it  be  ever  too  late,  and  that  the  pure,  honest  love 
of  a  woman  does  not  possess  the  power  to  raise  the  dead  ? 
Perhaps,  too,  the  masculine  heart  has  a  greater  power 
of  recuperation.  There  is  a  legend  about  the  rose  of 
Jericho,  which,  though  dry  to  the  core,  revives  and  brings 
forth  leaves  when  touched  by  a  drop  of  dew.     I  have 


64  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

noticed  that  the  male  nature  has  more  elasticity  than  the 
female.  A  man  steeped  in  such  utter  corruption  that 
half  of  its  venom  would  cover  the  woman  with  moral 
leprosy  is  able  to  throw  off  the  contagion,  and  recover 
easily  not  only  his  moral  freshness,  but  even  a  certain 
virginity  of  heart.  It  is  the  same  with  the  affections. 
I  have  known  women  whose  hearts  were  so  used  up 
that  they  lost  every  capacity  of  loving,  even  of  respect- 
ing anything  or  anybody.  I  have  never  known  men 
like  that.  Decidedly,  love  cleanses  our  hearts.  Defini- 
tions like  these  sound  strange  from  a  sceptic's  pen ;  but 
in  the  first  place  I  have  no  more  belief  in  my  doubts 
than  I  have  in  any  other  kind  of  assertions,  axioms,  and 
observations  which  serve  general  humanity  as  a  basis  of 
life.  I  am  ready  to  admit  at  any  moment  that  my 
doubts  are  as  far  removed  from  the  essence  of  things  as 
are  these  axioms.  Secondly,  I  am  writing  now  under  the 
influence  of  my  love  for  Aniela,  who,  maybe,  does  not 
know  herself  how  wisely  she  is  acting,  and  how  by  that 
very  trust  in  me  she  has  secured  a  powerful  hold  on  my 
affections.  Lastly,  whenever  I  speak  of  love,  or  any 
other  principle  of  life,  I  speak  and  write  of  it  as  it  ap- 
pears to  me  in  the  present.  What  my  opinion  about  it 
will  be  to-morrow,  I  do  not  know.  Ah,  if  I  but  knew  that 
whatever  view  I  take  or  principle  I  confess  would  with- 
stand the  blasting  scepticism  of  to-morrow  or  the  days 
following,  I  would  make  it  my  canon  of  life,  and  float 
along  with  sails  unfurled,  like  Sniatynski,  in  the  light, 
instead  of  groping  my  way  in  darkness  and  solitude. 

But  I  do  not  intend  to  go  back  now  to  my  inner  tragedy. 
As  to  love  in  general,  from  the  standpoint  of  a  sceptic 
in  regard  to  the  world  and  its  manifestations,  I  might 
say  with  Solomon,  "  Vanitas  vanitatum  ;  "  but  I  should  be 
utterly  blind  did  I  not  perceive  that  of  all  active  prin- 
ciples this  is  the  most  powerful,  —  so  powerful  indeed  that 
whenever  I  think  of  it  or  my  eyes  roam  over  the  everlast- 
ing ocean  of  all-life,  I  am  simply  struck  with  amazement 
at  its  almightiness.     Though  these  are  known  things,  as 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  65 

much  known  as  the  rising  of  the  sun  and  the  tides  of  the 
ocean,  nevertheless  they  are  always  wonderful. 

After  Empedocles,  who  divined  that  Eros  evolved  the 
worlds  from  Chaos,  metaphysics  have  not  advanced 
one  step.  Only  death  is  a  power  equally  absolute ;  yet 
in  the  eternal  struggle  between  the  two,  love  is  the 
stronger ;  love  conquers  death  by  night  and  day,  conquers 
it  every  spring,  follows  death  step  by  step,  throwing 
fresh  grain  into  the  gulf  it  creates.  People  occupied 
with  every-day  affairs  forget  or  do  not  wish  to  remem- 
ber that  they  are  love's  servants.  It  is  strange  when 
we  come  to  think  of  it  that  the  warrior,  the  chancellor  of 
state,  the  cultivator  of  the  soil,  the  merchant,  the  banker, 
in  all  their  efforts,  which  apparently  have  nothing  to  do 
with  love,  are  merely  furthering  its  ends ;  that  is,  they 
serve  the  law  of  nature  which  bids  the  man  to  stretch  out 
his  arms  for  the  woman.  A  mad  paradox  it  would  seem  to 
a  Bismarck  if  he  were  told  that  the  final  and  only  aim  of 
all  his  endeavors  is  to  further  the  love  of  Hermann  and 
Dorothea.  It  seems  even  to  me  a  paradox ;  and  yet  Bis- 
marck's aim  is  the  consolidation  of  the  German  empire, 
and  this  can  be  achieved  only  through  Hermann  and 
Dorothea.  What  else,  then,  has  a  Bismarck  to  do  but  to 
create  by  the  help  of  politics  and  bayonets  such  conditions 
that  Hermann  and  Dorothea  may  love  each  other  in  peace, 
unite  in  happiness,  and  bring  up  new  generations  ? 

When  at  the  university  I  read  an  Arabian  ghazel  in 
which  the  poet  compares  the  power  of  love  to  that  of  in- 
fernal torments.  I  forget  the  name  of  the  poet,  but  the 
idea  remained  in  my  memory.  Truly,  love  is  the  one 
power  that  lasts  for  all  times,  holds  the  world  together, 
and  creates  new  worlds. 


10  March. 
To-day  I  tore  up  three  or  four  letters  to  Aniela.    After 
dinner,  I  went  into  my  father's  room  to  talk  with  him 
about  my  aunt's  pla.ns.     I  found  him  looking  through  a 


66  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

lens  at  some  epilichnions  with  the  earth  still  adhering 
to  them,  he  had  received  from  the  Peloponnesus.  How 
splendid  he  looked  in  that  light  coming  through  stained 
windows  in  the  large  room  full  of  Etruscan  vases,  statues 
more  or  less  mutilated,  and  all  kinds  of  Greek  and  Roman 
treasures.  Among  these  surroundings  his  face  reminded 
ine  of  a  divine  Plato  or  of  some  other  Greek  sage.  When 
I  entered  he  interrupted  his  work,  listened  attentively  to 
what  I  had  to  say,  and  then  asked,  "Do  you  hesitate?" 

"No,  I  do  not  hesitate,  but  I  am  reflecting.  I  want  to 
know  why  I  want  it.  " 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you  this ;  I  was  once  like  you,  in- 
clined to  analyze  not  only  my  own  feelings  but  all  mani- 
festations of  life.  When  I  came  to  know  your  mother  I 
lost  that  facidty  at  once.  I  knew  one  thing  only,  that  I 
wanted  her,  and  did  not  care  to  know  anything  else. 
Therefore  if  you  have  a  like  powerful  desire,  marry.  I 
express  myself  wrongly,  for  if  you  wish  it  very  much 
you  will  do  it  without  anybody's  help  or  advice,  and  be 
as  happy  as  I  was  until  your  motlier  died." 

We  remained  silent  for  some  time.  If  I  were  to  apply 
my  father's  words  closely  to  ray  own  case,  I  shoidd  feel 
small  comfort.  I  love  Aniela,  there  is  no  doubt ;  but  I 
have  not  arrived  yet  at  a  state  that  precludes  all  reflec- 
tion. But  I  do  not  consider  this  as  a  bad  sign ;  it  simply 
means  that  I  belong  to  a  generation  that  has  gone  a  step 
farther  on  the  way  to  knowledge. 

There  are  always  two  persons  within  me,  —  the  actor, 
and  the  spectator.  Often  the  spectator  is  dissatisfied  with 
the  actor,  but  at  present  they  both  agree. 

My  father  was  the  first  to  interrupt  the  silence. 

"  Tell  me  what  she  is  like." 

Since  a  description  is  an  unsatisfactory  way  of  paint- 
ing a  portrait,  I  showed  my  father  a  large  and  really  ex- 
cellent photograph  of  Aniela,  at  which  he  looked  with 
the  keenest  interest.  I  was  no  less  interested  in  the 
study  of  his  face,  in  which  I  saw  not  only  the  roused 
artist,  but  also  the  refined  connoisseur  of  female  beauty, 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  67 

the  old  Leon  V Invincible.  Resting  the  photograph  on  the 
poor  hand  half  paralyzed,  he  put  on  his  eyeglass  with  the 
right,  and  then  holding  the  likeness  at  a  longer  or  shorter 
distance  he  began  to  say :  "  But  for  certain  details,  the 
face  is  like  one  of  those  Ary-Schaeffer  liked  to  paint. 
How  lovely  she  would  look  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  Some 
people  dislike  angelic  faces  in  women,  but  I  think  that  to 
teach  an  angel  how  to  become  a  woman  is  the  very  height 
of  victory.  She  is  very  beautiful,  very  uncommon  look- 
ing. '  Enfin,  tout  ce  qu'il  y  a  de  plus  beau  au  moude  — 
c'est  la  femme.' " 

Here  he  fumbled  with  his  eyeglass,  and  then  added : 
"Judging  by  the  face,  or  rather  by  the  photograph  (some- 
times one  makes  mistakes,  but  I  have  had  some  practice), 
hers  is  a  thoroughly  loyal  nature.  Women  of  this  type 
are  in  love  with  the  whiteness  of  their  plumage.  God 
bless  you,  my  boy !  I  like  her  very  much,  this  Aniela  of 
yours.  I  used  to  be  afraid  you  might  end  by  marrying  a 
foreigner  —  let  it  be  Aniela." 

I  came  up  close  to  him  and  he  put  his  arm  round  my 
neck. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  my  future  daughter  before  I  die." 

I  assured  him  that  he  would  certainly  see  her  shortly. 
Then  I  unfolded  my  plans  of  bringing  Aniela  and  her 
mother  over  to  Rome.  After  a  betrothal  by  letter  I 
might  expect  as  much,  and  the  ladies  would  not  refuse, 
if  only  out  of  consideration  for  my  father.  In  this  case 
the  marriage  ceremony  would  take  place  at  Rome,  and 
that  very  soon. 

My  father  was  delighted  with  the  plan ;  old  and  sick 
people  like  to  see  around  them  life  and  motion.  I  knew 
that  Aniela  would  be  pleased  with  this  turn  of  affairs, 
and  let  my  thoughts  dwell  upon  it  with  more  and  more 
pleasure.  Within  a  few  weeks  everything  would  be 
settled.  Such  quick  decision  would  be  against  my  na- 
ture, but  the  very  idea  that  I  could  exert  myself  if  I 
wished  raised  my  spirits.  I  already  saw  myself  escort- 
ing Aniela  about  Rome.     Only  those  who  live  there  un 


68  WITHOUT  DOGMA, 

derstand  what  a  delight  it  is  to  show  to  anybody  the 
endless  treasures  of  that  city,  —  a  much  greater  delight 
when  the  somebody  is  the  beloved  woman. 

Our  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  visit  from  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Davis,  who  come  every  day  to  see  my  father. 
He  is  an  English  Jew,  and  she  an  Italian  nobleman's 
daughter  who  married  him  for  the  sake  of  his  wealth. 
Mr.  Davis  himself  is  a  valetudinarian,  who  took  out  of  his 
life  twice  as  much  as  his  poor  organization  could  bear. 
He  is  ill,  threatened  with  softening  of  the  brain,  indif- 
ferent to  everything  that  goes  on  around  him, — one  of 
those  specimens  of  mankind  one  meets  at  hydropathic 
establishments.  Mrs.  Davis  looks  like  a  Juno  ;  her  eye- 
brows meet  on  her  forehead,  and  she  has  the  figure  of  a 
Greek  statue.  I  do  not  like  her;  she  reminds  me  of  the 
leaning  tower  at  Pisa, —  leans  but  does  not  fall.  A  year 
ago  I  paid  her  some  attentions  ;  she  flirted  with  me  out- 
rageously, that  was  all.  My  father  has  a  singular  weak- 
ness for  her ;  I  thought  at  times  he  was  in  love  with  her. 
At  any  rate,  he  admires  her  from  a  thinker  and  artist's 
point  of  view ;  for  beautiful  she  is, —  there  can  be  no  two 
opinions  as  to  that,  —  and  of  more  than  average  intelli- 
gence. Their  conversations,  which  my  father  calls  ''cau- 
series  Romaines,"  are  endless,  and  they  never  seem  to 
get  tired  of  them  ;  ma<\'be  these  discussions  about  life's 
problems  with  a  beautiful  woman  appear  Italian  to  him, 
poetical,  and  worthy  of  the  times  of  the  Renaissance. 
I  very  seldom  take  part  in  these  conversations  because 
I  do  not  believe  in  Mrs.  Davis'  sincerity.  It  seems 
to  me  that  her  intellect  is  merely  a  matter  of  brain,  and 
not  of  soul,  and  that  in  reality  she  does  not  care  for  any- 
thing except  her  beauty  and  the  comforts  of  life.  I  have 
often  met  women  who  seem  full  of  lofty  aspiration ;  upon 
closer  acquaintance  it  seems  that  religion,  philosophy, 
art,  and  literature,  are  only  so  many  items  of  their  toilet. 
They  dress  themselves  in  either  as  it  suits  their  style  of 
beauty.  I  suppose  it  is  the  same  with  Mrs.  Davis  ;  she 
drapes  herself  in  problems  of  life,  sometimes  in  Greek 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  69 

and  Roman  antiquities,  in  the  Divina  Commedia,  or  the 
Renaissance,  the  churches,  museums,  and  so  forth.  I  can 
understand  a  powerful  intellectual  organism  making  itself 
the  centre  of  the  universe  ;  but  in  a  woman,  and  one  who 
is  bent  upon  futile  things,  it  is  mere  laughable  egoism 
and  vanity. 

I  ask  myself  what  makes  Mrs.  Davis  so  fond  of  my 
father ;  and  I  fancy  I  know  the  reason.  My  father,  with 
his  tine  head  of  a  patrician  philosopher,  and  his  manners 
reminding  one  of  the  eighteenth  century,  is  for  her  a  kind 
of  objet  d'art,  and  still  more,  a  grand  intelligent  mirror, 
in  which  she  can  admire  her  own  beauty  and  cleverness  ; 
besides,  she  feels  grateful  that  he  never  criticises  her,  and 
likes  her  very  much.  Upon  this  basis  has  sprung  up  a 
friendship,  or  rather  a  kind  of  affection  for  my  father 
which  gradually  has  become  a  necessity  of  her  life.  More- 
over, Mrs.  Davis  has  the  reputation  of  a  coquette,  and 
coming  here  to  see  ray  father  every  day,  she  says  to  the 
world :  "  It  is  not  true ;  this  old  man  is  seventy,  and 
nobody  can  suspect  me  of  flirting  with  him,  and  yet  I 
show  him  more  attentions  than  to  any  one  else."  Finally, 
though  she  herself  comes  from  an  old  family,  Mr.  Davis, 
in  spite  of  his  wealth,  is  a  mere  nobody,  and  their  friend- 
ship with  my  father  strengthens  their  position  in  society. 
There  was  a  time  when  I  asked  myself  whether  these 
daily  visits  were  not  partly  for  my  sake  —  and  who 
knows  ?  At  any  rate,  it  is  not  my  qualities  which  attract 
her,  nor  any  real  feeling  on  her  part.  But  she  feels  that  I 
do  not  believe  in  her,  and  this  irritates  her.  I  should  not 
wonder  if  she  hated  me,  and  yet  would  like  to  see  me 
at  her  feet.  I  might  have  been,  for  she  is  a  splendid 
specimen  of  the  human  species ;  I  would  have  been,  if 
only  for  the  sake  of  the  meeting  eyebrows  and  the  Juno 
shoulders,  —  but  at  a  price  she  does  not  feel  inclined 
to  pay. 

Soon  after  the  arrival  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Davis  my  father 
began  a  philosophical  discussion,  which,  going  from  one 
question  to  another,  concluded  with  an  analysis  of  human 


70  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

feelings.  Mrs,  Davis  made  several  very  shrewd  remarks. 
From  the  studio  we  went  to  the  terrace  overlooking  our 
gardens.  It  is  only  the  tenth  of  March,  and  here  spring 
is  at  its  best.  This  year  everything  is  much  advanced,  — 
a  fierce  heat  in  the  daytime,  the  magnolias  covered  with 
snow-white  blossoms,  and  the  nights  as  warm  as  in  July. 
What  a  different  world  from  that  of  Ploszow.  I  breathe 
here  with  all  my  lungs. 

Mrs.  Davis  on  the  terrace  with  the  moon  shining  upon 
her  was  beautiful  as  a  Greek  dream.  I  saw  she  was 
under  the  influence  of  that  indescribable  Koman  night. 
Her  voice  was  softer,  even,  and  more  mellow  than  usual. 
Perhaps  even  now  she  only  thinks  of  herself,  is  impressed 
because  it  is  herself  who  feels  it,  dresses  herself  in  moon- 
beams, restfulness,  and  magnolia  scent  as  in  a  new  shawl 
or  bonnet.  But  all  the  same  the  dress  suits  her  splen- 
didly. Were  it  not  that  my  heart  is  full  of  Aniela,  I  should 
fall  under  the  spell  of  the  picture.  Besides  this,  she  said 
things  which  not  many  could  have  conceived. 

All  the  same,  whenever  I  am  present  at  these  caitseries 
Romaines  I  have  always  a  feeling  that  my  father,  I,  such 
as  jNIrs.  Davis,  and  generally  speaking,  all  the  people  of 
the  so-called  upper  classes  do  not  live  a  true,  real  life. 
Below  us  something  is  always  going  on,  something  always 
happens  ;  there  is  the  struggle  for  life,  for  bread,  —  a  life 
full  of  diligent  work,  animal  necessities,  appetites,  pas- 
sions, every-day  efforts,  —  a  palpable  life,  which  roars, 
leaps,  and  tumbles  like  ocean  waves ;  and  we  are  sitting 
eternally  on  terraces,  discussing  art,  literature,  love, 
woman,  strangers  to  that  other  life  far  removed  from 
it,  obliterating,  out  of  the  seven,  the  six  work-days. 
Without  being  conscious  of  it,  our  inclinations,  nerves, 
and  soul  are  fit  only  for  holidays.  Immersed  into  bliss- 
ful dilettantism  as  in  a  warm  bath,  we  are  half  awake, 
half  dreaming.  Consuming  leisurely  our  wealth,  and  our 
inherited  supply  of  nerves  and  muscles,  we  gradually 
lose  our  foothold  upon  the  soil.  We  are  as  the  down, 
carried  away  by  the  wind.    Scarcely  do  we  touch  ground, 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  71 

when  the  real  life  pushes  us  back,  and  we  draw  aside ; 
for  we  have  no  power  of  resistance. 

When  I  think  of  it  I  see  nothing  but  contradictions  in 
us.  We  consider  ourselves  the  outcome  and  highest  rung 
of  civilization,  and  yet  have  lost  faith  in  ourselves ;  only 
the  most  foolish  believe  in  our  ralson  d'etre.  We  look 
out  instinctively  for  places  of  enjoyment,  gayety,  and  hap- 
piness, and  yet  we  do  not  believe  in  happiness.  Though 
our  pessimism  be  wan  and  ei)hemeral  as  the  clouds  from 
our  Havanas,  it  obscures  our  view  of  wider  horizons. 
Amidst  these  clouds  and  mists  we  create  for  ourselves 
a  separate  world,  a  world  torn  off  from  the  immensity  of 
all  life,  shut  up  within  itself,  a  little  empty  and  som- 
nolent. If  this  merely  concerned  the  aristocracy,  whether 
by  descent  or  wealth,  the  portent  would  be  less  weighty. 
But  to  this  isolated  world  belong  more  or  less  all  those 
who  boast  of  a  higher  culture, —  men  of  science,  literature, 
and  art.  This  world  does  not  dwell  within  the  very  mar- 
row of  life,  but  parting  from  it  creates  a  separate  circle ; 
in  consequence  withers  within  itself  and  does  not  help  in 
softening  down  the  animalism  of  those  millions  which 
writhe  and  surge  below. 

I  do  not  speak  as  a  reformer,  because  I  lack  the  strength. 
Besides,  what  matters  it  to  me  ?  Who  can  avoid  the  in- 
evitable ?  But  at  times  I  have  the  dim  presentiment  of 
a  terrible  danger  which  threatens  the  cultured  world. 
T'lie  great  wave  which  will  wash  us  from  off  the  surface 
of  the  earth  will  carry  off  more  than  that  one  which 
washed  away  hairpowder  and  shirtfrills.  It  is  true  that 
to  those  who  perished  then  it  seemed  that  with  them  the 
whole  civilization  was  perishing. 

In  the  mean  while  it  is  pleasant  to  sit  on  moonlit  ter- 
races and  talk  in  subdued  tones  about  art,  love,  and 
woman,  and  look  at  the  divine  profile  of  such  a  woman 
as  Mrs.  Davis, 


72  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

10  March. 

Mountains,  towers,  rocks,  the  further  they  recede  from 
our  view,  appear  as  a  mere  outline  through  a  veil  of  blue 
haze.  There  is  a  kind  of  psychical  blue  haze  that  enfolds 
those  who  are  removed  from  us.  Death  itself  is  a  re- 
moval, but  the  chasm  is  so  wide  that  the  beloved  ones 
who  have  crossed  it  disappear  within  the  haze  and  become 
as  beloved  shadows.  The  Greek  genius  understood  this 
when  he  peopled  the  Elysian  fields  with  shadows. 

But  I  will  not  enlarge  upon  these  mournful  compari- 
sons, especially  when  I  want  to  write  about  Aniela.  I  am 
quite  certain  my  feelings  towards  her  have  not  changed, 
but  I  seem  to  see  her  a  long  distance  off,  shrouded  in  a 
blue  haze  and  less  real  than  at  Ploszow.  I  do  not  feel 
her  through  my  senses.  When  I  compare  my  present  feel- 
ings with  those  I  had  at  Ploszow,  she  is  more  of  a  beloved 
spirit  than  a  desired  woman.  From  a  certain  point  of 
view  it  is  better,  as  a  desired  woman  might  be  even  such 
a  woman  as  Mrs.  Davis  ;  but  on  the  other  hand  this  is  not 
one  of  the  reasons  that  have  prevented  me  from  writing 
to  Aniela.  Doubtless  that  profile  of  Mrs.  Davis  which  I 
still  see  before  me  is  a  mere  passing  impression.  When 
I  compare  these  two  women  my  feeling  for  the  other 
becomes  very  tender ;  and  yet  I  leave  her  in  cruel  sus- 
pense and  uncertainty. 

To-day  my  father  wrote  to  my  aunt,  setting  her  mind 
at  rest  as  to  his  health,  and  I  added  a  postscript  from  my- 
self, sending  kind  regards  to  Aniela  and  her  mother.  I 
could  not  say  much  in  a  few  lines,  but  I  might  have 
promised  them  a  longer  letter.  Such  a  promise  would 
have  comforted  Aniela  and  the  elder  ladies.  I  did  not 
do  it  because  I  could  not.  To-day  my  spirits  are  at  a 
very  low  ebb.  My  wish  for  another  life,  and  my  trust 
in  the  future  have  retreated  into  the  farthest  distance ;  I 
can  see  them  no  more,  see  only  the  barren,  sandy  wilder- 
ness. I  cannot  get  rid  of  the  idea  that  I  can  only  marry 
Aniela  if  I  can  conscientiously  believe  that  our  union 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  73 

would  lead  to  mutual  happiness.  I  cannot  represent  it 
otherwise  to  Aniela  without  uttering  a  lie;  for  I  have 
none  of  that  belief,  and  instead  of  it  an  utter  hopelessness 
almost  a  dislike  of  life.  She  is  ill  at  ease  with  longing 
and  uncertainty,  but  1  am  worse,  all  the  more  so  because 
I  love  her. 


11  March. 

Mrs.  Davis,  to  whom,  during  our  causerie  on  the  moon- 
lit terrace,  1  unfolded  my  view  as  to  the  all-powerfulness 
of  love,  more  or  less  as  I  have  written  it  down,  called 
me  Anacreon,  and  advised  me  to  crown  my  head  with 
vine  leaves,  and  then  said  more  soberly,  "If  csuch  be 
your  opinions,  why  play  the  part  of  pessimist  ?  Belief 
in  such  a  deity  ought  to  make  any  man  happy." 

Why  ?  I  did  not  tell  her,  but  I  know  why.  Love  con- 
quers death,  but  saves  from  it  only  the  species.  What 
matters  it  to  me  that  the  species  be  preserved,  when  I, 
the  individual,  am  sentenced  to  a  merciless,  unavoidable 
death  ?  Is  it  not  rather  a  refined  cruelty  that  the  very 
affections,  which  can  be  felt  only  by  the  individual,  should 
serve  the  future  of  the  species  only  ?  To  feel  the  throb- 
bing of  an  eternal  power,  and  yet  to  die,  —  that  is  the 
height  of  misery.  In  reality  there  exists  only  the  individ- 
ual ;  the  species  is  an  abstract  idea,  and  in  comparison  to 
the  individual,  an  utter  Nirvana.  I  understand  the  love 
for  a  son,  a  grandson,  a  great  grandson,  —  for  the  indi- 
vidual, in  fact,  that  is  sentenced  to  perish,  —  but  to  pro- 
fess love  for  one's  species  one  needs  be  insincere,  or  a  fan- 
atical sectarian.  I  can  understand  now  how  centuries  after 
Empedocles  there  came  Schopenhauer  and  Hartmann, 

My  brain  feels  as  sore  as  the  back  of  the  laborer  who 
carries  burdens  beyond  his  strength.  But  the  laborer 
stooping  to  his  work  earns  his  daily  bread  and  is  at 
peace. 

I  still  seem  to  hear  Sniatynski's  words :  "  Do  not 
philosophize  her  away,  as  you  have  philosophized  away 


74  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

your  abilities  and  your  thirty-five  years  of  life."  I  know 
it  leads  to  nothing,  I  know  it  is  wrong,  but  1  do  not 
know  how  not  to  think. 


13  March. 
My  father  died  this  morning.     He  was  ill  only  a  few 
hours. 


Peli,  Villa  Laura,  22  March. 

Death  is  such  a  gulf,  and  though  we  know  that  all 
have  to  go  thither,  yet  when  it  swallows  up  one  of  our 
dear  ones,  we  who  remain  on  the  brink  are  torn  with 
fear,  sorrow,  and  despair.  On  that  brink  all  reasoning 
leaves  us,  and  we  only  cry  out  for  help  which  cannot 
come  from  anywhere.  The  only  solace  and  comfort  lies 
in  faith,  but  he  who  is  deprived  of  that  light  gets  well- 
nigh  maddened  by  the  impenetrable  darkness.  Ten 
times  a  day  it  seems  to  me  impossible,  too  horrible,  that 
death  should  be  the  end  of  everything,  —  and  then  again, 
a  dozen  times  1  feel  that  such  is  the  case. 


23  March. 

"When  I  arrived  from  Ploszow  I  found  my  father  so 
much  better  that  it  never  even  entered  my  mind  that  the 
end  could  be  so  near.  What  strange  twists  there  are  in 
the  human  mind.  God  knows  how  sincerely  I  rejoiced 
when  I  found  my  father  so  much  better  than  I  had 
thought,  and  yet  because  throughout  that  anxious  jour- 
ney I  had  fancied  him  sick  unto  death,  and  already  saw 
myself  kneeling  at  his  coffin,  I  was  sorry  for  my  wasted 
anxieties.  Now  the  memory  of  this  fills  me  with  keen 
remorse. 

How  thoroughly  unhappy  is  the  individual  whose 
heart  and  soul  have  lost  their  simplicity.  Thus  not  less 
bitter,  not  less  of  a  reproach^  is  the  remembrance  that  at 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  75 

my  father's  deathbed  there  were  two  persons  in  me :  one 
of  them  the  son  full  of  anguish,  who  gnawed  his  hands 
to  keep  back  his  sobs ;  the  other  the  philosopher,  who 
studied  the  psychology  of  death.  I  am  unutterably  un- 
happy because  my  nature  is  an  unhappy  one. 

My  father  died  with  full  consciousness.  Saturday 
evening  he  felt  a  little  worse.  I  sent  for  the  doctor,  that 
he  might  be  at  hand  in  case  we  should  want  him.  The 
doctor  prescribed  some  physic,  and  my  father,  according 
to  his  habit,  disputed  the  point,  demonstrating  that  the 
physic  would  bring  on  a  stroke.  The  doctor  calmed  my 
fears,  and  said  though  there  was  always  fear  of  another 
stroke,  he  saw  no  immediate  danger,  and  that  my  father 
most  likely  would  live  for  many  years  to  come.  He  re- 
peated the  same  to  the  patient,  who,  hearing  of  the  many 
years  to  come,  incredulously  shook  his  head  and  said : 
"  We  will  see."  As  he  has  always  been  in  the  habit  of 
contradicting  his  doctors,  and  proving  to  them  that  they 
know  nothing,  I  did  not  take  his  words  seriously. 
Towards  ten  at  night,  when  taking  his  tea,  he  suddenly 
rose  and  called  out :  — 

"  Leon,  come  here,  quick  !  " 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  was  in  his  bed,  and 
within  an  hour  he  was  dying. 


24  ]\Iarch. 
I  am  convinced  that  people  preserve  their  idiosyncra- 
cies  and  originality  to  the  last  minute  of  their  life. 
Thus  my  father,  in  the  solemn  dignity  of  thoughts  at  the 
approacłiing  end,  still  showed  a  gratified  vanity  that  he, 
and  not  the  doctor,  had  been  right,  and  that  his  unbelief 
in  medicine  was  well  founded.  I  listened  to  what  he 
said,  and  besides,  read  his  thoughts  in  his  face.  He  was 
deeply  impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  moment; 
there  was  also  curiosity  as  to  the  future  life,  —  not  a 
shadow  of  doubt  as  to  its  existence,  but  rather  a  cer- 
tain uneasiness  about  how  he  would  be  received,  joined 


76  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

to  an  almost  unconscious,  unsophisticated  belief  that  he 
would  not  be  treated  as  a  mere  nobody  in  particular.  I 
shall  never  die  like  this,  because  I  have  no  basis  to  up- 
hold me  in  the  hour  of  death.  My  father  parted  with 
his  life  in  absolute  faith  and  the  deep  contrition  of  a 
true  Christian.  At  the  moment  when  he  received  the 
last  sacraments  he  was  so  venerable,  so  purely  saintly, 
that  his  image  will  remain  with  me  always. 

How  futile,  how  miserable,  appears  to  me  my  scepti- 
cism in  presence  of  that  immense  power  of  faith  that, 
stronger  even  than  love,  triumphs  over  death  at  the  very 
moment  when  it  extinguishes  life.  After  having  received 
the  last  sacraments,  a  great  tenderness  took  possession 
of  him.  He  grasped  my  hand  strongly,  almost  convul- 
sively, and  did  not  let  it  go  again,  as  if  through  me  he 
wanted  to  hold  fast  to  life.  And  yet  it  was  neither  fear 
nor  despair  that  moved  him,  he  was  not  in  the  least 
afraid.  Presently  I  saw  the  eyes  riveted  upon  my  face 
grow  dim  and  fixed,  his  forehead  became  moist,  as  if 
covered  by  a  gentle  dew ;  he  opened  his  mouth  several 
times  as  if  to  catch  his  breath,  —  sighed  deeply  once 
more,  —  and  died. 

I  was  not  present  at  the  embalming  of  the  body,  —  I 
had  not  the  strength  ;  but  after  that  I  did  not  leave  the 
dear  remains  for  a  minute,  out  of  fear  they  might  treat 
him  as  a  thing  of  no  consequence.  How  truly  awful  are 
those  last  rites  of  death,  —  the  whole  funereal  parapher- 
nalia, the  candles,  the  misericordia,  with  the  covered  faces 
of  the  singers.  It  still  clings  to  my  ears,  the  "Anima 
ejus,"  and  "Requiem  seternam."  There  breathes  from 
it  all  the  gloomy,  awful  spirit  of  Death.  We  carried  the 
remains  to  Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  and  there  I  looked  for 
the  last  time  at  the  dear,  grand  face.  The  Campo  Santo 
looks  already  like  a  green  isle.  Spring  is  very  early 
this  year.  The  trees  are  in  bloom  and  the  white  marble 
monuments  bathed  in  sunshine.  What  an  awful  con- 
trast, the  young,  nascent  life,  the  budding  trees,  the 
birds  in  full  song,  —  and  a  funeral.     Crowds  of  people 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  77 

filled  the  cemetery,  for  my  father  was  known  for  his 
benevolence  in  Rome  as  much  as  my  aunt  is  at  Warsaw. 
All  these  people  so  full  of  life,  as  if  reflecting  the  joys  of 
spring,  jarred  upon  my  feelings.  Crowds,  especiall}'  in 
Italy,  consider  everything  as  a  spectacle  got  up  for  theii 
special  benefit,  and  even  now  their  faces  betrayed  more 
curiosity  to  see  a  grand  funeral  than  any  sympathy. 
Human  selfishness  knows  no  limit,  and  I  am  convinced 
that  even  people  morally  and  intellectually  educated, 
when  following  a  funeral,  feel  a  kind  of  unconscious 
satisfaction  that  this  has  happened  to  somebody  else,  and 
it  is  not  they  who  are  to  be  interred. 

My  aimt  arrived,  as  I  had  summoned  her  by  telegram. 
She,  from  the  standpoint  of  faith,  looks  upon  death  as  a 
change  essentially  for  the  better ;  therefore  received  the 
blow  with  far  more  calmness  than  I.  This  did  not  pre- 
vent her  from  shedding  bitter  tears  at  her  brother's 
coffin. 

Afterwards  she  spoke  to  me  long  and  tenderly,  —  a 
conversation  full  of  exceeding  goodness,  I  took  much 
amiss  at  the  time,  for  which  I  am  sorry  now.  She  did 
not  mention  Anitda's  name,  —  spoke  only  of  my  future 
loneliness,  and  insisted  upon  my  coming  to  Ploszow; 
where,  surrounded  by  tender  hearts,  especially  the  one 
old  heart  which  loved  me  beyond  everything  on  earth,  I 
would  feel  less  sad.  I  saw  in  all  this  only  her  desire  to 
continue  her  matchmaking ;  and  in  presence  of  my  recent 
bereavement  this  seemed  to  me  improper,  and  irritated 
me  very  much.  I  felt  not  inclined  to  think  of  the  life 
before  me,  nor  of  love-speeches  or  weddings,  with  the 
shadow  of  death  across  my  path.  I  refused  peremp- 
torily, even  curtly;  told  my  aunt  I  was  going  away, — 
most  likely  to  Corfu,  then  would  come  back  to  Rome  in 
order  to  arrange  my  father's  affairs,  and  after  that  would 
come  to  Ploszow. 

She  did  not  insist  upon  having  her  own  way.  Feeling 
deeply  for  me,  she  was  even  more  gentle  than  usual,  and 
left  Rome  three  days  after  the  funeral.     I  did  not  go  to 


78  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Corfu;  instead  of  that,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Davis  carried  me 
oft"  to  their  villa  at  Peli,  where  I  have  been  now  for  sev- 
eral days.  Whc'tlior  Mrs.  Davis  is  sincere  or  not  I  do 
not  know,  and  will  not  even  enter  upon  that  now;  I  know 
only  that  no  sister  could  have  shown  more  sympathy 
and  solicitude.  With  a  nature  poisoned  by  scepticism, 
I  am  always  prone  to  suspect  and  misjudge  those  around 
mo ;  but  if  it  should  be  proved  that  I  misjudged  this 
woman,  I  should  feel  truly  guilty,  —  because  her  good- 
ness to  me  is  quite  extraordinary. 


26  March. 

My  windows  look  out  upon  the  vast  blueness  of  the 
Mediterranean,  encompassed  by  bands  of  a  darker  blue 
on  the  far  horizon.  Close  to  the  villa,  the  crisped  waves 
glitter  like  fiery  scales ;  in  the  distance,  the  sea  is 
glassy  and  still,  as  if  lulled  to  sleep  in  its  blue  veil. 
White  lateen  sails  flash  in  the  sun,  and  once  a  day  a 
steamer  from  Marseilles  for  Genoa  passes  hence,  dragging 
in  her  wake  woolly  coils  of  smoke  that  hang  over  the 
sea  like  a  dark  cloud,  until  it  gradually  dissolves  and  dis- 
appears. The  restfulness  of  the  place  is  indescribable. 
Thoughts  dissolve  like  yonder  black  cloud  between  the 
blue  sky  and  azure  sea,  and  life  is  a  blissful  vegetation. 

I  felt  very  tired  yesterday,  but  to-day  I  inhale  with 
eager  lungs  the  fresh  sea-breezes,  that  leave  a  salty  taste 
on  my  lips.  Say  wiiat  they  like,  the  Riviera  is  one  of 
the  gems  of  God's  creation.  I  fancy  to  myself  how  the 
wind  whistles  at  Ploszow ;  the  sudden  changes  from 
mild  spring  weather  to  wintry  blasts ;  the  darkness, 
sleet,  and  hail,  with  intermittent  gleams  of  sunshine. 
Here  the  sky  is  transparent  and  serene  ;  the  soft  breeze 
which  even  now  caresses  my  face  comes  through  the 
open  window  together  with  the  scent  of  heliotropes, 
roses,  and  mignonette.  It  is  the  enchanted  land,  where 
the  orange  blossoms,  and  also  an  enchanted  palace ; 
because   everything   that   millions   can   buy,   combined 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  79 

with  the  exquisite  taste  of  Mrs.  Davis,  is  to  be  found  in 
this  villa.  I  am  surrounded  by  masterworks  of  art,  — 
statues,  pictures,  matchless  specimens  of  ceramics,  chased 
works  by  Benvenuto.  Eyes  feast  on  nature,  feast  on 
art,  and  do  not  know  where  to  dwell  longest,  —  unless  it 
be  on  the  splendid  pagan,  the  mistress  of  all  these 
splendors,  and  whose  only  religion  is  beauty. 

But  is  it  quite  just  to  call  her  a  pagan  ?  because,  I 
say  again,  whether  sincere  or  not,  she  shares  my  sorrows 
and  tries  to  soothe  them.  We  talk  for  hours  about  my 
father,  and  I  have  often  seen  tears  in  her  eyes.  Since 
she  found  out  that  music  acts  soothingly  upon  my  mind, 
she  plays  for  hours,  and  often  until  late  at  night. 
Sometimes  I  sit  in  my  room  in  the  dark,  look  absently 
at  the  sea  riddled  by  a  silver  network,  and  listen  to  the 
sounds  of  her  music  mingling  with  the  splashing  of  the 
waves.  I  listen  until  I  feel  half  distracted,  half  sleepy, 
—  until  in  sleep  I  forget  the  real  life,  with  all  its 
sorrows. 


29  March. 

I  do  not  even  feel  inclined  to  write  every  day.  We  are 
reading  together  the  Divina  Coramedia,  —  or  rather,  its 
last  part.  There  was  a  time  when  I  felt  more  attracted 
by  the  awful  plasticity  of  the  Inferno.  Xow  I  like  to 
plunge  into  the  luminous  mist,  peopled  with  still  more 
luminous  spirits,  of  the  Dantesque  heaven.  At  times  it 
seems  as  if  amid  all  that  radiance  I  see  the  dear,  familiar 
features,  and  my  sorrow  becomes  almost  sweet  to  me.  I 
never  before  understood  the  exceeding  beauty  of  heaven. 
Never  has  human  mind  taken  such  a  lofty  flight,  encom- 
passed such  greatness,  or  borrowed  such  a  slice  from  in- 
finity as  in  this  sublime,  immortal  poem.  The  day  before 
yesterday  and  the  two  days  following,  we  read  it  together 
in  the  boat.  We  usually  go  out  a  long  distance,  and 
when  the  sea  is  quite  still  I  furl  the  sail ;  and  we  read, 
rocked  by  the  waves,  —  or  rather,  she  reads  and  I  listen. 


80  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Surrounded  by  the  glories  of  the  sunset,  far  from  the 
shore,  with  the  most  beautiful  woman  reading  to  me 
Dante,  I  was  under  a  delusion  that  1  had  been  trans- 
ferred to  another  world. 


30  March. 

At  times  the  sorrow  that  seemed  to  be  lulled  to  sleep 
wakes  up  with  renewed  force.  I  feel  then  as  if  I 
wanted  to  fly  hence. 

Villa  Laura,  31  March. 
To-day  I  thought  a  great  deal  about  Aniela.  I  have  a 
strange  feeling,  as  if  lauds  and  seas  divided  us.  It 
seems  to  me  as  if  Ploszow  were  a  Hyperborean  island 
somewhere  at  the  confines  of  the  world.  We  have 
delusions  of  that  kind  when  personal  impression  takes 
the  place  of  tangible  reality.  It  is  not  Aniela  who  is 
far  from  me,  it  is  I  who  go  farther  and  farther  away 
from  the  Leon  whose  heart  and  thoughts  were  once 
so  full  of  her.  This  does  not  mean  that  my  feelings 
for  her  have  vanished.  By  close  analysis  I  find  they 
have  only  changed  in  their  active  character.  Some 
weeks  ago,  I  loved  her  and  wanted  something ;  I  love 
her  still,  but  want  nothing.  My  father's  death  has 
scattered  the  concentration  of  the  feelings.  It  would 
be  the  same,  for  instance,  had  I  begun  some  literary 
work,  and  some  unfortunate  accident  interrupted  the 
even  flow  of  my  thoughts.  But  that  is  not  all.  Not 
long  ago,  all  the  faculties  of  my  mind  were  strung  to 
their  highest  pitch ;  now,  under  the  influence  of  a  heavy 
sorrow,  a  soft  atmosphere,  and  the  gently  rocking  sea, 
they  have  relaxed.  I  live,  as  I  said  before,  the  life  of  a 
plant ;  I  rest  as  one  rests  after  a  long  fatigue,  and  as  if 
immersed  in  a  warm  bath.  Never  did  I  feel  less  inclined 
to  any  kind  of  exertion  ;  the  very  bought  of  it  gives  me 
pain.  If  I  had  to  choose  a  watchword,  it  would  be,  "  Do 
not  wake  me."  What  will  happen  when  I  wake  up,  I  do 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  81 

not  know.  I  am  sad  now,  but  not  unhappy ;  therefore 
I  do  not  want  to  wake  up,  and  do  not  consider  it  my 
duty.  It  is  even  difficult  to  me  to  recall  the  image  of 
I  the  Floszowski  who  fancied  himself  bound  to  Aniela. 
Bound,  —  why  ?  by  what  reason  ?  What  has  happened 
between  us  ? 

A  slight,  almost  imperceptible  kiss  on  the  forehead, 
—  a  caress  which,  among  near  relations,  can  be  put 
down  to  brotherly  affection.  These  are  ridiculous  scru- 
ples. I  have  broken  ties  far  different  from  these  with- 
out the  slightest  twinge  of  conscience.  Were  she  not  a 
relation,  it  would  be  a  different  matter.  It  is  true,  she 
understood  it  in  a  different  way,  and  so  did  I  at  the 
time,  —  but  let  it  pass.  One  prick  of  conscience  more 
or  less,  what  does  it  matter  ?  We  do  worse  things  con- 
tinually, to  which  the  disappointment  I  caused  Aniela 
is  mere  childishness.  Conscience  that  can  occupy  itself 
with  such  peccadilloes  must  have  nothing  else  to  do. 
There  is  about  the  same  proportion  of  such  kinds  of 
crime  to  real  ones  as  our  conversations  on  the  terrace 
to  real  life. 

Upon  the  whole,  I  do  foresee  what  will  happen ;  but  I 
want  to  be  left  in  peace  at  present  and  not  think  of 
anything.  "  Do  not  wake  me."  To-day  it  was  deter- 
mined that  we  ought  to  leave  Peli  as  soon  as  the  hot 
weather  sets  in,  —  perhaps  in  the  middle  of  April,  —  and 
go  to  Switzerland.  Even  that  terrifies  me.  I  fancy  Mrs. 
Davis  will  have  to  place  her  husband  under  restraint ;  he 
shows  symptoms  of  insanity.  He  says  not  a  word  for 
whole  days,  but  sits  staring  either  at  the  floor  or  at  his 
finger-nails ;  he  is  afraid  they  will  come  off.  These  are 
with  him  the  consequences  of  a  wild  life  and  narcotics. 

I  leave  off  writing  as  it  is  our  time  for  sailing. 

2  April. 

Yesterday  there  was  a  thunderstorm.  A  strong  south- 
ern wind  drove   the  clouds   along   as  a  herd    of   wild 

6 


82  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

horses.  It  pulled  and  tore,  chased  and  scattered  them, 
then  got  them  under  and  threw  them  with  a  mighty  ef- 
fort upon  the  sea,  which  darkened  instantly  as  man  in 
wratli,  and  began  in  its  turn  to  send  its  foam  alolt,  — 
a  veritable  battle  of  two  furies,  which,  battering  each 
other,  produce  thunder  and  lightning  Hashes.  But  all 
this  lasted  only  a  short  time.  We  did  not  go  out  to  sea, 
as  the  waves  were  too  rough.  Instead  of  it  we  looked 
at  the  storm  from  the  glazed  balcony,  and  sometimes 
looked  at  each  other.  It  is  no  use  deluding  myself  any 
longer;  there  is  something  going  on  between  us,  —  a 
subtle  change  in  our  relations  to  each  other.  Neither  of 
us  has  said  a  word  or  overstepi>ed  the  boundary  line  of 
friendship ;  neither  has  confessed  to  anything,  and  yet 
speaking  to  each  other  we  feel  that  our  words  serve  only 
to  disguise  our  thoughts.  It  is  the  same  when  we  are  in 
the  boat,  reading  together,  or  when  I  listen  to  her  music. 
All  our  acts  seem  mere  shadows,  —  an  outward  form  that 
hides  the  real  essence  of  things,  with  its  face  still  veiled, 
but  following  us  wherever  we  go.  Neither  of  us  has 
given  it  a  name  ;  but  we  both  feel  its  presence.  Mani- 
festations like  these  take  place  probably  every  time  man 
and  woman  begin  to  influence  each  other,  I  could  not 
tell  exactly  when  it  began  ;  but  I  confess  it  did  not  come 
upon  me  quite  unexpectedly. 

I  accepted  their  hospitality  because  Mrs.  Davis  was 
my  father's  friend ;  and  it  was  she  who,  after  his  death, 
showed  me  more  sympathy  than  any  one  else  in  Rome. 
I  have  so  much  consciousness  of  self,  am  so  able  to  di- 
vide myself,  that  soon  after  my  arrival  here,  in  spite  of 
my  heavy  sorrow  I  had  the  presentiment  that  our  mu- 
tual relation  would  undergo  a  change.  I  hated  myself 
that  so  soon  after  my  father's  death  I  should  harbor 
thoughts  like  these ;  but  they  were  there.  I  find  now 
that  my  presentiments  were  right.  If  I  said  that  the 
changed  relation  has  still  its  face  veiled,  I  meant  to  say 
that  I  do  not  know  exactly  when  the  veil  will  be  torn 
asunder,  and  I  am  under  the  spell  of  expectation.     I 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  88 

should  be  unsophisticated  indeed,  if  I  supposed  she  were 
less  conscious  of  all  this  than  I.  She  is  probably  more 
so.  Most  likely  she  is  guiding  all  these  changes  ;  and 
everything  that  is  happening  happens  according  to  her 
wishes  and  cool  reflection.  Diana  the  Huntress  is  spread- 
ing her  net  for  the  game !  But  what  does  it  matter 
to  me  ?  what  is  there  for  me  to  lose  ?  As  nearly  every 
man,  I  am  that  kind  of  game  which  allows  itself  to  be 
hunted  for  the  purpose  of  turning  at  a  given  moment 
against  the  hunter.  In  such  circumstances  we  all  have 
energy  enough.  In  a  hand-to-hand  tight,  like  this,  the 
victory  rests  always  with  us.  I  know  perfectly  well 
that  ^Irs.  Davis  does  not  love  me,  any  more  than  I  love 
her.  We  simply  react  upon  each  other  through  our  pagan 
nature,  our  sensuous  and  artistic  instincts. 

With  her  it  is  also  a  question  of  vanity,  — the  worse 
for  her,  as  it  may  lead  her  whither  love  leads.  I  shall 
not  go  too  far.  In  my  feeling  for  her  there  is  neither 
affection  nor  tenderness,  —  nothing  but  rapture  at  the 
sight  of  nature's  raasterwork,  and  the  attraction  natural 
in  a  man  when  that  masterwork  is  a  woman.  My  father 
said  that  the  height  of  victory  would  be  to  change  an 
angel  into  a  woman  ;  I  maintain  that  it  is  no  less  a  tri- 
um])h  to  feel  around  one's  neck  tlie  arms,  palpitating 
with  life,  of  a  Florentine  Venus. 

As  far  as  beauty  goes  she  is  the  highest  expression  of 
whatever  the  most  exalted  imagination  is  able  to  con- 
ceive. She  is  a  Phryne.  It  would  turn  most  men's 
heads  to  see  her  in  a  tight-fitting  riding-habit  that  shows 
the  outline  of  her  figure  as  beautiful  as  that  of  a  statue. 
In  the  boat,  reading  Dante,  she  looked  like  a  Sybil,  and 
one  could  understand  a  Nero's  sacrilegious  passion. 
Hers  is  an  almost  baleful  beaut}'.  Only  the  joining 
eyebrows  make  her  appear  a  woman  of  our  times,  and 
this  makes  her  all  the  more  irritating.  She  has  a  cer- 
tain habit  of  pushing  back  her  hair  by  putting  both 
hands  at  the  back  of  her  head  ;  then  her  shoulders  are 
raised  ;  the  whole  shape  acquires  a  certain  curve,  and 


84  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

the  breast  stands  lirmly  out,  —  and  one  feels  a  desire 
to  carry  her  oil'  in  one's  arms  from  everybody's  eyes. 

In  each  of  us  tliere  is  a  hidden  Satyr.  As  to  myself, 
as  1  said  already,  1  am  highly  impressionable ;  there- 
fore, when  1  think  of  it,  that  there  is  something  going 
on  between  me  and  this  live  statue  of  a  Juno,  that  some 
mysterious  power  pushes  us  towards  each  otlier,  —  my 
head  is  in  a  whirl,  and  I  ask  myself  what  would  I  wish 
for  more  perfect  than  this. 


3  April 

As  much  as  ever  woman  can  show  kindness  and  sym- 
pathy to  a  friend  in  trouble,  she  has  shown  to  me.  And 
yet,  strange  to  say,  all  this  kindness  has  upon  me  the 
effect  of  moonlight,  —  radiance  witliout  warmth  ;  she  pos- 
sesses perfection  of  form,  but  there  is  no  soul ;  with  her 
all  is  premeditation,  but  not  nature.  There  speaks  again 
the  sceptic ;  but  I  shall  never  be  so  intoxicated  as  to  lose 
ray  capacity  of  observation.  If  this  divinity  were  kind, 
she  would  be  kind  to  everybod}'.  Thus,  for  instance,  the 
way  she  treats  her  husband  is  enough  to  destroy  any 
illusion  as  to  her  heart.  The  unfortunate  Davis  is  such 
a  bloodless  creature  that  he  feels  chilly  in  the  hottest 
sunshine,  and  oh  !  so  chilly  at  her  side.  I  never  noticed 
in  her  the  slightest  sign  of  compassion  for  his  misery. 
He  simply  does  not  exist,  for  her.  This  millionnaire,  in 
the  midst  of  all  his  wealth,  is  so  poor  that  it  would  rouse 
any  one's  pity.  He  is  apparently  indifferent  to  every- 
thing ;  and  yet  the  human  being,  with  ever  so  little  con- 
sciousness, feels  kindness.  The  best  proof  of  it  is  that 
Davis  feels  grateful  to  me  because  I  speak  to  him  now 
and  then  about  his  health. 

Perhaps  it  is  the  instinctive  attraction  of  the  weaker 
towards  the  stronger  organism.  When  I  look  at  that 
face  as  white  as  chalk,  no  bigger  than  my  fist,  those  feet 
like  walking-sticks,  and  that  shrunken  figure,  wrapped 
up  in  a  plaid  during  the  hottest  of  weathers,  I  am  truly 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  85 

sorry  for  him.  But  I  will  not  make  myself  out  better 
than  I  am.  I  may  pity  the  man ;  but  compassion  will 
not  stand  in  my  way.  It  has  often  struck  me  that,  when 
woman  is  in  question,  man  becomes  pitiless ;  it  is  still  a 
remnant  of  the  animal  instinct  that  fights  to  the  uttermost 
for  the  female.  In  such  a  tight  between  human  beings, 
whatever  shape  it  takes,  the  weaker  goes  to  the  wall. 
Even  honor  is  no  curb ;  it  is  only  religion  that  condemns 
it  absolutely. 


12  April. 

I  have  not  written  for  nearly  ten  days.  The  veil  was 
rent  a  week  ago.  I  always  suspected  the  sea  would 
help  us  to  an  understanding.  Women  like  Laura  never 
forget  the  fitting  background.  If  they  do  charitable 
deeds  because  it  enhances  their  beauty,  the  more  they  want 
beauty  when  they  fall.  Joined  to  this  is  their  passion  for 
anything  out  of  the  common,  which  does  not  spring  from 
the  poetical  faculties  of  their  mind,  but  from  a  desire  to 
adorn  themselves.  I  have  not  so  lost  my  head  as  not  to  be 
able  to  judge  Laura,  though  really  I  do  not  know  whether 
she  has  not  the  right  to  be  what  she  is,  and  to  think 
the  sun  and  stars  are  made  on  purpose  for  her  adorn- 
ment. Absolute  beauty,  in  the  nature  of  things,  must 
be  essentially  egotistic,  and  subject  everything  to  its 
rule.  Laura  is  the  very  incarnation  of  beauty,  and 
nobody  has  the  right  to  ask  anything  else  from  her 
than  to  be  always  and  everywhere  beautiful ;  at  least, 
I  do  not  ask  for  more. 

Thanks  to  my  skill  in  seamanship,  we  can  be  alone  on 
our  excursions.  A  week  ago,  on  a  sultry  day,  Laura  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  go  out  in  the  boat.  Like  a  Hecate,  she 
exults  in  heat.  A  gentle  breeze  drove  us  a  long  distance 
from  the  shore,  and  then  the  wind  fell.  The  lateen  sail 
hung  motionless  from  the  mast.  The  rays  of  the  sun,  re- 
flected from  the  glassy  surface  of  the  water,  increased  the 
heat,  although  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon,   Laura  threw" 


86  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

herself  on  the  Indian  matting,  and  resting  her  head 
against  the  cushions,  remained  motionless,  all  in  a  red 
glow,  from  the  sun  filtering  through  the  awning.  A 
strange  laziness  had  taken  possession  of  me,  and  at  the 
same  time  tlie  sight  of  this  woman  with  her  Greek  form 
that  showed  through  the  clinging  drapery  sent  a  thrill 
of  admiration  through  my  veins.  Her  eyes  were  veiled, 
the  lips  slightly  parted ;  her  whole  presence  expressed 
powerlessness,  and  seemed  to  say,  "  1  am  weak." 

We  came  back  late  to  the  villa,  and  the  return  will  re- 
main for  a  long  time  in  my  memory.  After  a  sunset  in 
which  sky  and  earth  seemed  to  be  wedded  in  a  splendor 
without  limit  and  without  division,  there  came  a  night 
of  such  beauty  as  I  had  never  seen  on  the  Kiviera. 
From  the  vast  deep  rose  the  immense  red  orb  of  the 
moon,  which  filled  the  air  with  a  mellow  light,  and  at 
the  same  time  made  a  broad,  luminous  path  on  the  sea, 
on  which  we  glided  towards  the  shore.  There  was  a 
gentle  swell  on  the  water,  like  a  heaving  sigh.  From  the 
little  harbor  the  voices  of  the  Ligurian  fishermen,  sing- 
ing a  chorus,  came  up  to  us.  A  light  breeze  from  the 
shore  wafted  towards  us  the  scent  of  orange-blossoms. 
Although  not  prone  to  let  myself  be  carried  away  by  my 
sensations,  I  was  under  the  spell  of  this  unutterable  sweet- 
ness that  floated  over  land  and  sea,  and  clung  like  dew  to 
soul  and  body. 

From  time  to  time  my  eyes  rested  upon  the  Helen- 
like woman  whose  white  draperies  glistened  in  the  moon- 
light, and  I  fancied  myself  living  in  ancient  Greece,  and 
that  we  were  floating  somewhere,  maj^be  towards  the 
sacred  olive  groves  where  the  Eleusinian  mysteries  were 
enacted.  Our  rapture  did  not  seem  any  more  a  rapture 
of  the  senses,  but  a  cult,  a  mystic  alliance  with  that  night, 
that  spring,  and  all  nature. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  87 


15  April. 

The  time  fixed  for  our  departure  has  arrived,  but  we 
do  not  depart.  My  Hecate  does  not  fear  the  sun,  ]Mr. 
Davis  likes  it,  and  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  whether 
here  or  in  Switzerland  is  a  matter  of  indifference. 

A  strange  thought  has  taken  hold  of  me;  I  almost 
shrink  from  it,  but  nevertheless  will  confess :  It  seems 
to  me  that  a  Christian  soul,  though  the  spring  of 
faith  be  dried  up  therein,  cannot  live  altogether  on 
the  mere  beauty  of  form.  This  means  more  sorrow  in 
store  for  me  ;  if  the  thought  proves  true  the  whole  basis 
of  my  life  falls  to  the  ground.  We  are  beings  of  a  dif- 
ferent culture.  Our  souls  are  full  of  Gothic  arches,  pin- 
nacles, twisted  traceries  we  cannot  shake  off,  and  of 
which  Greek  minds  knew  nothing.  Our  minds  shoot 
upward  ;  theirs,  full  of  repose  and  simplicity,  rested 
nearer  the  earth.  Those  of  us  in  whom  the  spirit  of 
Hellas  beats  more  powerfully  consider  the  beautiful  a 
necessity  of  life,  and  search  after  it  eagerly,  but  instinc- 
tively demand  that  Aspasia  should  have  the  eyes  of 
Dante's  Beatrice.  A  similar  longing  is  planted  within 
me.  When  I  think  of  it,  that  a  beautiful  human  animal 
like  Laura  belongs  to  me  and  will  belong  as  long  as  I 
wish  it,  a  twofold  joy  gets  hold  of  me,  —  the  joy  of  the 
man  and  the  delight  of  the  artist ;  and  yet  there  is  a  want 
and  something  missing.  On  the  altar  of  my  Greek  temple 
there  is  a  marble  goddess ;  but  my  Gothic  shrine  is 
empty.  I  admit  that  in  her  I  have  found  something  bor- 
dering upon  the  perfect,  and  I  defend  myself  from  a 
suspicion  that  this  perfection  throws  a  big  shadow.  I 
thought  once  that  Goethe's  words,  "  You  shall  be  like 
unto  gods  and  beasts,"  embraced  all  life  and  were  the 
highest  expression  of  his  wisdom ;  now,  when  I  follow 
the  commandment,  I  feel  that  he  omitted  the  angel. 


88  WITHOUT   DOGMA. 


17  AprU. 

Mr.  Davis  came  into  the  room  when  I  was  sitting  at 
Laura's  feet,  ray  head  leaning  against  her  knees.  His 
bloodless  face  and  dim  eyes  showed  no  feeling  beyond 
indifferent  sullenness.  In  his  soft  slippers  embroidered 
with  Indian  suns,  he  shuttled  across  the  room  and  into 
the  library.  Laura  looked  magnificent,  her  eyes  flashing 
with  unrestrained  wrath.  I  rose  and  awaited  what  would 
happen.  A  thought  crossed  my  mind  that  Mr.  Davis 
might  come  back,  a  revolver  in  his  hand.  In  such  a  case 
I  should  have  pitched  him  through  the  window,  revolver, 
plaid,  and  Indian  slippers.  But  he  did  not  come  back  ;  I 
waited  a  long  time  in  vain.  I  do  not  know  what  he  was 
doing  there  ;  whether  he  was  thinking  over  his  misery, 
weeping,  or  perfectly  indifferent.  We  all  three  met 
again  at  lunch,  and  he  was  sitting  there  as  if  nothing 
unusual  had  happened.  Perhaps  it  was  my  fancy  that 
made  me  think  that  Laura  looked  menacingly  at  him,  and 
also  that  his  apathetic  expression  was  even  more  mourn- 
ful than  usual.  I  confess  that  such  a  tame  ending  of  the 
business  is  the  most  painful  to  me.  I  am  not  one  to  pro- 
voke a  quarrel,  but  ready  to  answer  for  my  deeds  ;  finally, 
I  would  rather  the  man  were  not  so  defenceless,  such  a 
small,  miserable  creature.  I  have  a  nasty  feeling,  as  if 
I  had  knocked  down  a  cripple,  and  never  yet  felt  so 
disgusted  with  myself. 

We  went  out  in  the  boat  as  usual.  I  did  not  want 
Laura  to  think  I  was  afraid  of  Davis ;  but  there  we  had 
our  first  quarrel.  I  confessed  to  her  my  scruples  and 
she  laughed  at  them.     I  said  to  her  plainly,  — 

"  The  laughter  does  not  become  you ;  and  remember, 
you  may  do  most  things,  but  not  what  is  not  becoming." 

There  was  a  deep  frown  on  the  meeting  eyebrows,  and 
she  replied  bitterly,  — 

"  After  what  has  passed  between  us,  you  may  insult  me 
even  with  more  impunity  than  you  could  Davis." 

After  such  a  reproach  there  remained  nothing  else  but 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  89 

to  ask  her  forgiveness  ;  and  presently,  harmony  being  re- 
stored, Laura  began  to  talk  about  herself.  I  had  another 
instance  of  her  cleverness.  Generally  the  women  I  have 
known  intimately  showed  a  desire  to  tell  me  their  life. 
I  do  not  blame  them  for  it;  it  shows  that  they  feel  the 
need  to  justify  themselves  in  their  own  eyes  and  ours. 
We  men  do  not.  Yet  I  never  met  a  woman  either  so 
clever  as  not  to  overstep  the  artistic  proportions  in  her 
confession,  or  so  sincere  as  not  to  tell  lies  in  order  to 
justify  herself.  I  call  to  witness  all  men  who  when  the 
occasion  occurs  may  verify  how  wonderfully  similar  all 
these  cases  of  going  astray  are,  and  consequently  how 
tedious.  Laura,  too,  began  to  talk  about  herself  with  a 
certain  eager  satisfaction,  but  only  in  this  respect  did 
she  follow  the  beaten  track  of  other  fallen  angels.  In 
what  she  told  me  there  was  a  certain  posing  for  origi- 
nality, but  she  was  certainly  not  posing  as  a  victim. 
Knowing  she  had  to  deal  with  a  sceptic,  she  did  not 
want  to  call  forth  a  smile  of  incredulity.  Her  sincerity 
was  skirting  upon  the  bold,  almost  the  cynical,  one  might 
say,  were  it  not  that  to  her  it  is  a  system  of  life  in  which 
aestheticism  has  taken  the  place  of  ethics.  She  pre- 
fers simply  a  life  in  the  shape  of  an  Apollo  to  that  of 
humpbacked  Pulcinello ;  that  is  her  philosophy.  She 
had  married  Davis  not  so  much  for  his  wealth  as  for 
the  purpose  of  making  her  life  as  beautiful  as  lay  in 
human  power,  — beautiful  not  in  the  common  meaning  of 
the  word,  but  in  the  highest  artistic  sense.  Besides  she 
did  not  consider  she  had  any  duties  toward  her  husband, 
as  she  had  never  even  pretended  to  love  him  ;  she  had 
for  him  as  much  pity  as  repugnance,  and  as  he  was  in- 
different to  everything,  he  was  of  no  more  account  than 
if  he  were  dead.  She  added  that  she  did  not  take  ac- 
count of  anything  that  was  contrary  to  her  ideas  of  a 
purely  beautiful  and  artistic  life.  Regard  for  society 
she  had  very  little,  and  who  thought  otherwise  of  her 
would  be  utterly  wrong.  She  had  felt  friendship  for  my 
father,  not  because  of  his  social  position,  but  because  she 


90  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

had  looked  upon  him  as  a  masterwork  of  nature.  As  to 
myself,  she  had  loved  me  for  a  long  time.  She  under- 
stood perfectly  that  1  would  have  prized  her  more  had 
the  victory  been  less  easy,  but  she  did  not  care  to  bargain 
when  her  hapi)iiie.ss  was  at  stake. 

This  kind  of  principles,  announced  by  that  perfect 
mouth  in  a  soft  voice  full  of  metallic  vibrations,  gave 
nie  a  strange  sensation.  While  speaking  to  me  she 
drew  her  draperies  close  to  her  as  if  to  make  room 
for  me  at  her  side.  At  times  her  eyes  followed  the  mo- 
tions of  the  sea-gulls  circling  above  our  heads,  then  again 
they  rested  keenly  upon  my  face  as  if  she  wanted  to  read 
the  impression  her  words  had  made  upon  me.  I  listened 
to  her  words  with  a  certain  satisfaction,  as  they  proved 
to  me  that  1  had  judged  her  pretty  correctly.  Yet  there 
was  something  in  them  quite  new  to  me.  I  had  always 
rendered  her  justice  as  to  her  cleverness,  but  I  thought 
her  acts  were  the  instinctive  outcome  of  her  nature.  I 
had  never  supposed  her  capable  of  inventing  a  whole 
system  in  order  to  support  and  justify  the  impulses  of 
her  nature.  This  showed  her  in  a  somewhat  nobler 
light,  as  it  proved  that  where  I  had  suspected  her  of 
more  or  less  mean  calculation,  she  only  acted  according 
to  her  own  principles,  —  maybe  bad,  even  terrible,  but 
always  principles.  For  instance,  I  had  suspected  her  of 
wanting  to  marry  me  after  Davis's  death,  —  she  proved 
me  utterly  in  the  wrong.  She  herself  began  to  talk 
about  it.  She  confessed  that  if  I  were  to  ask  her  for 
her  hand  she  might  not  be  able  to  refuse  me,  as  she  loved 
me  more  than  I  believed  (here  as  I  am  a  living  man  I 
saw  a  warm  blush  mounting  to  her  neck  and  brow),  but 
she  knew  this  would  never  happen  ;  sooner  or  later  I 
would  leave  her  with  a  light  heart,  —  but  what  of  that  ? 
If  she  dipped  her  hand  into  the  water  and  felt  the  re- 
freshing coolness,  should  she  refuse  herself  this  delight 
because  the  sun  would  suck  the  cool  moisture  ? 

Saying  this  she  bent  over  the  gunwale,  which  showed 
her  figure  in  all  its  immaculate  perfection,  and  after 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  91 

plunging  her  hands  into  the  water,  she  stretched  them 
out  to  me  moist  and  pink  and  gleaming  in  the  sunshine. 
I  took  hold  of  the  hands,  and  she,  as  if  echoing  my  sen- 
sations, said  in  a  caressing  voice,  **  Come." 


20  April. 

I  did  not  see  Laura  the  whole  of  j'esterday,  as  slie  was 
not  well.  She  had  cauglit  a  chill  sitting  out  late  on  the 
balcony,  and  it  had  affected  her  teeth.  What  a  nuisance  ! 
Fortxmately  the  day  before  yesterday  a  doctor  arrived 
who  is  to  remain  in  attendance  upon  Mr.  Davis ;  other- 
wise I  should  not  have  a  soul  to  speak  to.  He  is  a  young 
Italian,  small  of  stature,  very  dark,  with  an  enormous 
head  and  very  sharp  eyes.  He  seems  very  intelligent. 
It  is  evident  that  from  the  very  first  he  has  grasped  the 
situation,  and  found  it  very  natural,  for  without  hesita- 
tion he  addressed  me  as  the  master  of  tlie  house.  I  could 
not  help  laughing  when  he  came  this  morning  and  asked 
me  whether  he  could  see  the  countess  so  that  he  might 
prescribe  for  her.  They  have  some  very  quaint  notions 
in  this  country.  Usually,  when  a  niarried  woman  is 
suspected  to  belong  to  somebody  else,  the  world  is  in 
arms  to  hunt  and  run  her  down,  often  with  thoughtless 
cruelty.  Here,  on  the  contrary,  they  worship  at  the  altar 
of  love,  and  one  and  all  take  sides  with  and  plot  for  the 
lover.  I  told  the  doctor  I  would  see  whether  the  coun- 
tess would  see  him.  I  penetrated  into  Laura's  sanctum. 
She  received  me  unwillingly,  because  her  face  is  a  little 
swollen,  and  she  did  not  wish  me  to  see  her  in  that  state. 
And  in  truth  her  face  reminded  me  of  my  old  drawing  les- 
sons. I  noticed  even  then  that  with  a  modern  face  one 
may  commit  inaccuracies,  change  this  or  that,  and  pro- 
vided the  expression,  the  idea  of  the  face  remain  intact, 
the  likeness  will  not  suffer.  It  is  quite  a  different  thing 
drawing  from  the  antique ;  the  slightest  inaccuracy,  the 
least  deviation,  destroys  the  harmony  of  the  face  and 
makes  it  different  altogether,    I  had  an  example  in  Laura, 


92  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

The  swelling  was  very  slight,  —  I  scarcely  noticed  it  as 
she  obstinately  turned  the  sound  part  of  her  face  to  me ; 
but  as  her  eyes  were  a  little  reddened,  the  eyelids  heavier 
than  usual,  it  was  not  the  same  face,  perfect  in  its  har- 
mony and  beauty.  Of  course  I  did  not  let  her  see  tliis, 
but  she  received  my  greeting  half-disturbed,  as  if  troubled 
with  a  bad  conscience.  Evidently  according  to  her  prin- 
ciples toothache  is  a  mortal  sin. 

Queer  principles  these,  anyway !  I  too  have  the  soul 
of  an  ancient  Greek,  but  beyond  the  Pagan  there  is  some- 
thing else  in  me.  Laura  will  be  sometime  very  unhappy 
with  her  philosophy.  I  can  understand  that  one  may 
make  a  religion  of  beauty  in  a  general  sense,  but  to  make 
a  religion  of  one's  own  beauty  is  to  prepare  great  unhap- 
piness  for  ourselves.  What  kind  of  religion  is  that  which 
a  simple  toothache  undermines,  and  a  pimple  on  the  nose 
shatters  into  ruin  ? 


25  April. 

We  shall  have  to  leave  for  Switzerland,  for  the  heat  is 
almost  unbearable.  Besides  the  heat,  there  is  the  Sirocco, 
that  comes  now  and  then  like  a  hot  breath  from  Africa. 
The  sea-breezes  somewhat  mitigate  the  fierceness  of  this 
visitor  from  the  desert,  but  it  is  none  the  less  very  dis- 
agreeable. 

The  Sirocco  acts  injuriously  on  Mr.  Davis.  The  doe- 
tor  watches  him  closely  lest  he  should  take  opium, 
and  consequently  become  either  very  irritable  or  else 
quite  stupefied.  I  notice  that  in  his  greatest  fits  of  anger 
he  is  afraid  of  Laura  and  myself.  Who  knows  whether 
a  homicidal  mania  is  not  already  germinating  in  the  half- 
insane  brain  ?  or  maybe  he  is  afraid  we  are  going  to  kill 
him.  Generally  speaking,  my  relation  with  him  is  one  of 
the  darkest  sides  of  the  part  I  am  enacting.  I  say  one 
of  the  darkest,  because  I  am  fully  aware  that  there  is 
more  than  one.  I  should  not  be  my  own  self  if  I  did  not 
perceive  that  my  soul  not  only  is  stagnating,  but  is  get- 


WITHOUT   DOGMA.  98 

ting  swiftly  corrupted  in  the  arms  of  that  woman.  I  can- 
not even  express  what  loathing,  what  bitterness  and 
pangs  of  conscience,  it  caused  me  at  first  that  I  should 
have  plunged  myself  into  the  depth  of  sensuous  raptures 
so  soon  after  the  death  of  my  father.  It  was  not  onl}'- 
my  conscience,  but  also  the  delicacy  of  feelings  which 
I  undoubtedly  possess,  that  revolted  against  it.  I  felt 
this  so  deeply  that  I  could  not  write  about  it.  I  have 
grown  more  callous  since.  I  still  reproach  myself  from 
time  to  time,  and  seriously  reflect,  but  the  feeling  has 
lost  its  poignancy. 

As  to  Aniela,  I  try  to  forget  her,  because  the  memory 
is  troublesome,  or  rather  I  cannot  arrive  at  a  cI6ar  under- 
standing as  to  the  whole  Ploszow  episode.  At  times  I 
feel  inclined  to  think  that  I  was  not  worthy  of  her ;  at 
others,  that  I  made  an  ass  of  myself  over  a  girl  like 
dozens  of  others.  This  irritates  my  vanity,  and  makes 
me  feel  angry  with  Aniela.  One  moment  I  feel  an  un- 
savory consciousness  of  guilt  in  regard  to  her,  in  another 
the  offence  appears  to  me  futile  and  childish.  Taken  al- 
together, I  do  not  approve  of  the  part  I  played  at  Ploszow, 
nor  do  I  approve  of  the  part  I  am  playing  here.  The 
division  between  right  and  wrong  is  becoming  more  and 
more  indistinct  within  me,  and  what  is  more  I  do  not 
care  to  make  it  clearer.  This  is  the  result  of  a  certain 
apathy  of  mind,  which  again  acts  as  a  sleeping  draught ; 
for  when  the  inward  struggle  tires  me  out  I  say  to  my- 
self:  "Suppose  you  are  worse  than  you  were  —  what  of 
that  ?  Why  should  you  trouble  about  anything  ?  " 

Then  I  see  another  change  in  myself.  Gradually  I 
have  got  used  to  what  at  first  chafed  my  honor,  — the  in- 
sulting of  the  crippled  man.  I  notice  that  I  permit  my- 
self hundreds  of  things  I  would  not  do  if  Davis,  instead 
of  being  physically  and  mentally  afflicted,  were  an  able- 
bodied  man  capable  of  defending  his  own  honor.  We  do 
not  even  take  the  trouble  of  going  out  to  sea.  I  never 
even  imagined  that  my  sensitiveness  could  become  so 
blunted.     It  is  very  easy  to  say  to  myself :  "  What  does 


94  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

the  wretched  Eastern  matter  to  you  ?  "  But  verily  I  can- 
not get  rid  of  the  thought  that  my  black-haired  Juno  is 
no  Juno  at  all, —  that  her  name  is  Circe,  and  her  touch 
changes  men  (as  one  might  say  in  correct  mythological 
language)  into    nurslings  of  Eumaeus. 

And  when  I  ask  myself  as  to  the  cause,  the  answer 
shatters  many  of  my  former  opinions.  It  is  this :  our 
love  is  a  love  of  the  senses,  but  not  of  the  soul.  The 
thought  again  comes  back  that  we,  the  outcome  of  mod- 
ern culture,  cannot  be  satisfied  with  it.  Laura  and  I 
were  like  unto  gods  and  beasts  with  humanity  left  out. 
In  a  proper  sense  our  feelings  cannot  be  called  love  ;  we 
are  desirable  to  each  other,  but  not  dear.  If  we  both 
were  different  from  what  we  are,  we  might  be  a  hundred 
times  more  unhappy,  but  I  should  not  have  the  conscious- 
ness that  I  am  drawing  near  the  shelter  of  Eumaeus.  I 
understand  that  love  merely  spiritual  remains  a  shadow, 
but  love  without  spiritualism  becomes  utter  degradation. 
It  is  another  matter  that  some  people  touched  by  Circe's 
wand  may  find  contentment  in  their  degradation.  It 
seems  a  sad  thing  and  very  strange  that  I,  a  man  of  the 
Hellenic  type,  should  write  thus.  Scepticism  even  here 
steps  in,  and  in  regard  to  Hellenism  I  begin  to  have  my 
doubts  whether  life  be  possible  with  those  worn-out  forms  • 
and  as  I  am  always  sincere,  I  write  what  I  think. 


30  Apiil. 

Yesterday  I  received  a  letter  from  my  aunt.  It  was 
sent  after  me  from  Rome  and  dated  two  weeks  back.  I 
cannot  understand  why  they  kept  it  so  long  at  Casa  Oso- 
ria.  My  aunt  was  sure  I  had  gone  to  Corfu,  but  thought 
I  might  have  returned  by  this,  and  writes  thus  :  — 

"  We  have  been  expecting  to  hear  from  5^ou  for  some 
time,  and  are  looking  out  with  great  longing  for  a  letter. 
I,  an  old  woman,  am  too  deeply  rooted  in  the  soil  to  be 
easily  shaken,  but  it  tells  upon  Aniela.     She  evidently 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  96 

expected  to  hear  from  you,  and  when  no  letter  came  either 
from  Vienna  or  liome,  I  saw  she  felt  uneasy.  Then  came 
your  father's  death.  I  said  then,  in  her  presence,  that 
you  could  not  think  now  of  anything  but  your  loss ;  by 
and  by  you  would  shake  off  your  trouble  and  return  to 
your  old  life.  I  saw  at  once  that  my  words  comforted 
her.  But  afterwards,  when  week  passed  after  week  and 
you  did  not  send  us  a  single  line,  she  grew  very  troubled, 
mostly  about  your  health,  but  I  fancy  because  she  thought 
you  had  forgotten  her.  I,  too,  began  to  feel  uneasy,  and 
wrote  '  poste  restante '  to  Corfu,  as  we  had  agreed.  Not 
getting  any  reply,  I  am  sending  another  letter  to  your 
house  at  Kome,  because  the  thought  that  you  may  be  ill 
makes  us  all  very  unhappy.  Write,  if  only  a  few  lines ; 
and,  Leon,  dear,  pull  yourself  together,  shake  off  that 
apathy,  and  be  yourself  again.  I  will  be  quite  open  with 
you.  In  addition  to  Aniela's  troubles,  somebody  has  told 
her  mother  that  you  are  known  everywhere  for  your  love 
affairs.  Fancy  my  indignation  !  Celina  was  so  put  out 
that  she  repeated  it  to  her  daughter,  and  now  the  one  has 
continual  headaches,  and  the  other,  poor  child,  looks  so 
pale  and  listless  that  it  makes  my  heart  bleed.  And 
she  is  such  a  dear  girl,  and  as  good  as  gold.  She  tries 
to  look  cheerful  so  as  not  to  grieve  her  mother ;  but  I 
am  not  so  easily  deceived,  and  feel  deeply  for  her.  My 
dearest  boy,  I  did  not  say  much  to  you  at  Rome,  because 
I  respected  your  attiiction ;  but  a  sorrow  like  that  is  sent 
by  God,  and  we  have  to  submit  to  His  will  and  not  allow 
it  to  spoil  our  life.  Could  you  not  write  a  few  words  to 
give  us  some  comfort,  —  if  not  to  me,  at  least  to  the  poor 
child  ?  I  never  disguised  it  from  you  that  my  greatest 
wish  was  to  see  you  two  happily  married  if  it  were  in  a 
year  or  two,  as  Aniela  is  a  woman  in  a  thousand.  But  if 
you  think  otherwise  it  would  be  better  to  let  me  know  it 
in  some  way.  You  know  I  never  exaggerate  things,  but  I 
am  really  afraid  for  Aniela's  health.  And  then  there  is 
her  future  to  be  thought  of.  Kromitzki  calls  very  fre- 
quently upon  the  ladies,  evidently  with  some  intentions. 


96  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

I  wanted  to  dismiss  him  without  ceremony,  especially  aS 
I  have  my  suspicions  that  it  was  he  who  spread  those 
tales  about  you ;  but  Celina  solemnly  entreated  me  not 
to  do  this.  She  is  quite  distracted,  and  does  not  believe 
in  your  affection  for  Aniela.  What  could  I  do  ?  Sup- 
pose her  motherly  instinct  is  right,  after  all  ?  Write  at 
once,  my  dear  Leon,  and  accept  the  love  and  blessing  of 
the  old  woman  who  has  only  you  now  in  the  world. 
Aniela  wanted  to  write  to  you  a  letter  of  condolence 
after  your  father's  death,  but  Celina  did  not  let  her,  and 
we  had  a  quarrel  over  this.  Celina  is  the  best  of  women, 
but  very  provoking  at  times.  Kind  greetings  and  love 
from  us  all.  Young  Chwastowski  is  establishing  a 
brewery  on  the  estate.  He  had  some  money  of  his 
own,  and  the  rest  I  lent  him." 

At  first  I  thought  the  letter  had  not  made  any  impres- 
sion upon  me  ;  but  presently,  when  walking  up  and  down 
the  room,  I  found  that  I  had  been  mistaken.  The  im- 
pression increased  every  minute,  and  became  very  strong 
indeed.  After  an  hour  I  said  to  myself  with  amazement : 
"  The  deuce  is  in  it !  I  cannot  think  of  anything  else  but 
that."  Strange  how  quick  my  thoughts  travel,  chasing 
each  other  like  clouds  driven  by  the  wind.  What  a 
creature  of  nerves  I  am !  First,  a  great  tenderness  for 
Aniela  woke  up  within  me.  All  that  I  had  felt  for  her 
not  long  ago,  and  that  had  lain  dormant  in  odd  nooks 
of  my  soul,  stirred  into  life.  To  go  at  once,  soothe  her, 
make  her  happy,  was  the  first  impulse  of  my  heart,  —  not 
clearly  defined,  perhaps,  but  very  strong  all  the  same. 
When  I  imagined  to  myself  the  tearful  eyes,  her  hands 
resting  within  mine,  the  old  feeling  for  her  woke  up  with 
renewed  strength.  Then  the  idea  crossed  my  mind  to 
compare  her  to  Laura,  —  with  a  fatal  result  for  Laura.  I 
felt  sick  of  the  life  I  was  leading;  felt  the  want  of  a 
purer  atmosphere  than  I  was  breathing  here,  —  of  rest- 
fulness,  gentleness,  and  above  all,  rectitude  of  feeling. 
At  the  same  time  a  great  joy  filled  my  heart,  that  noth- 
ing was   lost  yet,  everything  could  be  made  right;   it 


WiTflOUt  DOGMA.  QT 

depended  only  upon  my  will.  Suddenly  I  bethought  my- 
self of  Kromitzki,  and  of  Aniela's  mother,  who,  not  trust- 
ing me,  is  evidently  on  his  side.  A  dull  anger  rose 
within  me,  which,  gradually  increasing,  smothered  all 
other  feelings.  The  more  my  reason  acknowledged  that 
Pani  Celina  was  right  in  mistrusting  me,  the  more  I  felt 
offended  that  she  should  harbor  that  mistrust.  I  worked 
myself  up  into  a  terrible  rage  against  everybody,  includ- 
ing myself.  What  I  thought  and  felt  can  be  expressed 
in  a  few  words :     "  Very  well,  let  it  be  as  they  wish ! " 

The  letter  came  yesterday;  to-day,  analyzing  myself 
more  quietly,  I  find  to  my  own  astonishment  that  the 
offence  not  only  rankles  in  my  mind,  but  also  has  taken 
firmer  root.  I  say  to  myself  all  that  a  soberly  thinking 
man  can  say  in  mitigation  thereof,  and  yet  I  cannot  for- 
give either  Aniela  or  her  mother  the  Kromitzki  business. 
Aniela  could  have  put  a  stop  to  it  with  one  word,  and  if 
she  has  not  done  it,  she  is  sacrificing  me  to  her  mother's 
headaches.  Besides,  Kromitzki  lowers  Aniela  in  my  eyes, 
stains  her,  and  brings  her  down  to  the  level  of  marriage- 
able girls.     I  cannot  even  speak  of  it  quietly. 

IVIaybe  my  reasoning  and  feeling  are  those  of  an  exas- 
perated man ;  maybe  that  love  of  self  is  too  predominant 
in  me.  I  know  that  I  am  able  to  look  at  and  judge  myself 
as  a  stranger  would ;  but  this  dualism  does  not  help  me 
in  the  least.  I  am  more  and  more  embittered.  To  write 
about  it  irritates  my  nerves,  —  therefore,  enough ! 


1  May. 

During  the  night  I  thought,  "Perhaps  to-morrow  I  shall 
be  more  composed."  Nothing  of  the  kind.  I  am  simply 
in  a  rage  with  Aniela,  Aniela's  mother,  my  aunt,  and 
myself.  The  wind  ought  to  be  tempered  for  the  shorn 
lamb,  and  they  forget  that  my  wool  is  deucedly  thin. 
After  all,  I  am  comfortable  where  I  am.  Laura  is  like 
a  marble  statue.    Near  her  nothing  troubles  me  very 

7_ 


dd 


WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


much,  because  there  is  nothing  except  beauty.  I  am 
tired  of  over-strained;  tender  souls.  Let  Kromitski 
comfort  her. 

2  May. 

I  carried  the  letter  to  the  post-office  myself.  It  was 
not  a  long  one :  "  I  wish  Pan  Kromitzki  every  happiness 
with  Panna  Aniela,  and  Panna  Aniela  with  Pan  Kro- 
mitzki. You  wished  for  a  decision,  dear  aunt,  and  I 
comply  with  your  wish." 

3  May. 

I  was  thinking  whether  my  aunt's  allusion  to  Kro- 
mitzki was  but  a  piece  of  female  diplomacy  in  order  to 
bring  me  to  book.  If  so,  she  is  to  be  congratulated  upon 
her  skill  and  knowledge  of  human  nature. 


10  May. 
A  week  has  passed.     I  have  not  written  because  I  feel 
half  suffocated,   torn  by  doubts,  sorrow,  and  anxiety. 
Aniela  has  never  been,  and  is  not  indifferent  to  me.    The 
words  of  Hamlet  recur  to  me  :  — 

"I  loved  Ophelia;  forty  thousand  brothers 
Could  not,  with  all  their  quantity  of  love, 
Make  up  my  sum." 

I  should  only  have  to  change  the  outcry  :  — 

"  I  loved  Aniela ;  forty  thousand  Lauras  could  not 
make  up  my  sum." 

And  needs  must  be  that  with  my  own  hands  I  wrought 
the  evil.  There  is  a  glimmer  of  comfort  in  the  thought 
that  to  be  united  to  a  man  like  me  might  be  a  worse  fate 
for  her,  —  but  it  is  not  so.  If  she  were  mine  I  would  be 
true  to  her.  Then  again  it  rankles  in  my  mind  that 
perhaps    a    Kromitzki  is  sufficient  to  her  happiness. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA,  99 

When  I  think  of  this  everything  seethes  within  me,  and 
I  feel  ready  to  send  off  another  such  letter. 

It  is  done  with !  that  is  the  only  comfort  for  people 
like  me,  for  then  they  can  fold  their  hands  and  idle 
away  their  time  as  before.  Perhaps  it  is  a  sign  of  ex- 
ceptional weakness,  but  I  find  some  comfort  in  it.  Now 
I  can  think  in  peace. 

I  put  to  myself  the  question,  "  How  is  it  that  a  man  who 
not  only  boasts  of  a  thorough  knowledge  of  self,  but  also 
possesses  it,  has  for  some  time  almost  blindly  followed 
his  instinctive  impulses  ?  "  Of  what  use  is  self-knowl- 
edge if  at  the  first  commotion  of  the  nerves  it  hides  in 
a  remote  nook  of  the  brain  and  remains  there,  a  passive 
witness  to  impulsive  acts  ?  To  investigate  things  post 
factum  ?  I  do  not  know  of  what  use  this  can  be  to  me, 
but  as  I  have  nothing  else  to  do,  let  us  investigate.  Why 
did  I  act  as  I  did  ?  It  must  be  because  though  I  am  an 
intelligent  man,  very  intelligent  even  (the  deuce  take 
me  if  I  intend  to  boast  or  flatter  myself),  I  lack  judg- 
ment. And  chiefly  it  is  the  calm,  masculine  judgment 
that  is  wanting.  I  do  not  control  my  nerves,  I  am 
hypersensitive,  and  a  crumpled  roseleaf  would  irritate 
me.  There  is  something  feminine  in  my  composition. 
Perhaps  I  am  not  an  exception,  and  there  are  more  of 
that  type  in  my  country,  which  is  of  small  comfort. 
This  kind  of  mind  may  have  much  understanding,  but  is 
a  bad  guide  through  life ;  it  darts  restlessly  here  and 
there,  hesitates,  sifts,  and  filters  every  intention,  and  at 
last  loses  itself  among  cross-roads.  Consequently  the  ca- 
pacity for  acting  gets  impaired,  and  finally  it  degenerates 
into  a  weakness  of  character,  an  innate  and  not  uncom- 
mon fault  with  us.  Then  I  put  to  myself  another  ques- 
tion.  Let  us  say  my  aunt  had  not  made  any  allusion  to 
Kromitzki,  would  the  result  have  turned  out  differently  ? 
And  truly  I  dare  not  say  yes.  It  would  not  have  come 
so  swiftly,  —  that  is  certain ;  but  who  knows  whether  in 
the  end  it  would  have  turned  out  more  satisfactory. 
Weak  characters   want  infinite  accommodations ;   only 


100  WtTHOUT  DOGMA. 

powerful  ones  are  spurred  on  by  opposition.  Laura, 
who  in  certain  things  is  as  subtle  as  musk,  most  likely 
understood  this  and  therefore  showed  herself  so  — 
gracious. 

Finally,  what  is  the  upshot  of  it  ?  Am  I  a  milksop  ? 
Not  in  the  least.  A  man  who  looks  straight  at  truth 
■would  not  shrink  from  confessing  it,  —  but  no.  I  feel 
that  I  could  go  on  an  arctic  expedition  without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  be  a  missionary  in  darkest  Africa. 
I  am  possessed  of  a  certain  pluck,  inherited  courage, 
Avhich  would  carry  me  through  many  bold  adventures 
and  risky  enterprises.  My  temperament  is  lively ;  per- 
haps less  nimble  than  Sniatynski,  I  am  yet  no  laggard. 
But  when  it  comes  to  solving  any  of  life's  problems  my 
scepticism  renders  me  powerless,  my  intellect  loses  it- 
self in  observations,  reasonings,  the  will  has  nothing 
to  rest  upon,  and  my  acts  depend  maiuly  upon  external 
circumstances. 


12  May. 
I  never  liked  Laura,  though  I  was  and  am  still  under 
the  spell  of  her  physical  charms.  This  at  first  sight 
looks  like  a  paradox,  but  nevertheless  is  a  common 
enough  occurrence.  One  may  love  and  not  like  the 
person  in  question.  As  often  as  I  happened  to  meet  a 
love  full  of  thorns  and  apt  to  take  easily  offence,  it  was 
only  because  there  was  no  real  liking  at  the  bottom. 
Now  Sniatynski  and  his  wife  are  not  only  in  love,  but 
they  like  each  other  immensely,  and  therefore  are  happy. 
Ah  me  !  I  feel  I  could  have  liked  Aniela,  and  we  might 
have  been  as  happy !  Better  not  think  about  it.  As 
to  Laura,  she  will  meet  many  who  may  fall  in  love 
with  her  raven  hair  and  statuesque  beauty,  but  she  will 
never  inspire  real  liking.  This  singular  woman  attracts 
irresistibly,  and  at  the  same  time  repulses.  I  have  said 
that  beyond  beauty  there  is  nothing  else ;  for  even  her 
uncommon  intelligence  is  only  the  humble  slave  kneeling 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  101 

at  the  feet  of  her  own  beauty.  Not  more  than  a  week 
ago  I  saw  Laura  giving  money  to  a  child  whose  father 
had  been  drowned  recently,  and  I  thought  to  myself: 
"  She  would  put  the  child's  eyes  out  in  the  same  way, 
gracefully  and  sweetly,  if  she  thought  it  would  add  to 
her  beauty."  One  feels  these  things,  and  one  may  lose 
one's  head  over  a  woman  like  that,  but  it  is  impossible 
to  like  her.  And  she  who  understands  so  many  things 
does  not  understand  this. 

Yet  how  beautiful  she  is  !  A  few  days  ago,  when  she 
came  down  the  steps  leading  into  the  garden,  swaying 
lightly  on  those  magnificent  hips,  "  I  thought  I  should 
drop,"  as  the  poet  Słowacki  says.  Decidedly  I  am  under 
the  sway  of  two  powers,  —  the  one  attracting,  the  other 
repelling.  I  want  to  go  to  Switzerland,  and  I  want  to 
go  back  to  Rome.  I  do  not  know  how  it  will  end. 
Ribot  rightly  says  that  a  desire  to  do  a  thing  is  only  a 
consciousness,  not  an  act  of  volition  ;  still  less  is  it  an  act 
of  volition  to  have  a  twofold  desire.  I  received  a  letter 
from  my  lawyer,  who  wants  to  see  mc  about  the  affairs 
of  the  succession ;  these  are  mere  formalities,  and  they 
could  arrange  things  without  me,  did  I  feel  disinclined 
to  move.  But  it  will  serve  as  a  pretext.  For  some  time 
I  have  liked  Laura  even  less  than  formerly.  It  is  for  no 
fault  of  hers,  as  she  is  always  the  same,  but  as  it  happens, 
I  have  transferred  to  her  some  of  the  dislike  I  have  for 
myself.  At  the  time  of  my  inward  struggles  I  turned 
to  her  not  only  for  peace,  but  also  for  a  kind  of  wilful 
degradation  ;  now  for  that  very  reason  1  feel  displeased 
with  her.  She  did  not  even  know  of  the  storm  raging  in 
my  breast;  besides,  what  could  it  matter  to  her,  as  it 
was  nothing  which  could  serve  her  as  an  ornament  ? 
She  only  noticed  that  I  was  feverish  and  more  impulsive 
than  usual ;  she  asked  a  little  after  the  cause,  but  with- 
out insisting  too  much.  Perhaps  after  all  the  attrac- 
tion here  will  win  and  I  shall  not  depart;  in  any  case, 
I  am  going  to  tell  her  that  I  am  obliged  to  go.  I  am 
curious  to  know  how  she  will  take  it,  still  more  curious 


102  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

as  I  can  imagine  it  very  well.  I  suspect  that  with,  all 
her  love  for  me,  which  is  very  like  my  love  for  her,  she 
does  not  really  like  me,  —  that  is,  if  she  ever  takes  the 
trouble  to  like  or  to  dislike  anybody.  Our  minds  have 
certain  points  of  resemblance,  but  thousands  of  contra- 
dictions. 

I  am  terribly  tired.  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  the 
sensation  my  letter  has  made  at  Ploszow.  I  think  in- 
cessantly of  this  even  when  with  Laura;  I  see  before  me 
continually  Aniela  and  my  aunt.  How  happy  Laura  is 
in  her  everlasting  repose  !  I  have  such  difficulty  to  bear 
with  my  own  self. 

I  shall  be  glad  of  a  change.  Peli,  though  a  seaside 
resort,  is  very  empty.  The  heat  is  quite  exceptional. 
The  sea  is  calm ;  no  waves  wash  against  the  shore ; 
it  seems  exhausted  and  breathless  from  the  heat.  At 
times  the  wind  rises,  but  it  is  a  suffocating  blast,  that 
raises  clouds  of  white  dust  which  covers  the  palms,  fig- 
trees,  and  myrtles,  and  penetrates  through  the  blinds 
into  the  house.  My  eyes  ache  as  the  walls  reflect  a 
glaring  sun,  and  in  the  daytime  it  is  impossible  to  look 
at  anything. 

To  Switzerland  or  to  Rome,  but  away  from  here.  It 
seems  anywhere  it  would  be  better  than  here.  We  all 
prepare  for  the  journey.  I  have  not  seen  Mr.  Davis  for 
four  or  five  days.  I  fancy  his  insanity  will  break  out 
any  day.  The  doctor  tells  me  the  poor  man  challenges 
him  to  fight.     He  considers  this  a  bad  sign. 


Rome,  Casa  Osoria,  18  May. 
It  was  evidently  solitude  I  wanted.  I  feel  as  I  felt 
after  my  arrival  at  Peli,  sad,  but  at  the  same  time  peace- 
ful. I  feel  even  more  peaceful  here  than  in  my  first 
days  at  Peli,  because  there  is  none  of  that  uneasiness 
Laura's  presence  used  to  give  me.  I  walk  about  the 
still,  gloomy  house,  and  find  thousands  of  details  that 
remind  me  of  my  father,  and  the  memory  grows  fresh 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  103 

again  in  my  heart.  He  too  had  vanished  into  the  distant 
haze,  and  now  I  meet  him  again  as  in  his  former,  real 
life.  There  on  the  table  in  his  studio  are  the  lenses 
through  which  he  looked  at  his  specimens,  the  bronze 
implement  he  used  in  scraping  the  dry  soil  from  the 
pottery ;  colors,  brushes,  manuscripts,  and  notes  about 
the  collections  are  lying  about.  At  times  I  have  a  feeling 
as  if  he  had  gone  out  and  would  return  presently  to  his 
work,  and  wheu  the  illusion  disappears  a  great  sorrow 
seizes  me,  and  I  love  not  only  his  memory,  but  love  him 
who  sleeps  the  eternal  sleep  on  the  Campo  Santo. 

And  I  feel  sad ;  but  the  feeling  is  so  infinitely  purer 
than  those  which  had  such  absolute  sway  over  my  mind 
those  last  weeks  that  I  feel  more  at  ease,  —  a  better  man, 
or,  at  least,  not  so  corrupt  as  I  had  seemed  to  myself. 
I  notice  also  that  no  reasoning,  nor  the  most  desperate 
argumentation  can  deprive  us  of  a  certain  feeling  of 
satisfaction,  when  we  come  in  contact  with  nobler  ele- 
ments. Whence  comes  that  irresistible,  irrepressible 
tendency  towards  the  good  ?  Spinning  out  this  thread 
I  go  very  far.  Since  our  reason  is  considered  a  reflec- 
tion of  the  logical  principle  of  all  life,  may  not  our  con- 
ception of  good  be  a  similar  reflection  from  an  absolute 
good.  Were  it  so,  one  might  throw  at  once  all  doubts  to 
the  wind,  and  shout,  not  only,  "  Eureka ! "  but  also,  "  Al- 
leluia!" Nevertheless,  I  am  afraid  lest  the  foundation 
fall  to  pieces,  like  many  others,  and  I  dare  not  build  on 
it.  Besides  the  reasoning  is  but  vague  ;  I  shall  go  back 
to  it  undoubtedly,  because  this  means  the  extraction  of  a 
thorn,  not  from  the  feet,  but  from  the  soul.  Now  I  am 
too  tired,  too  sad  and  restful  at  the  same  time. 

It  seems  to  me  that  of  all  creatures  upon  earth  it  is 
only  the  human  being  that  can  act  sometimes  against 
his  volition.  I  wanted  to  leave  Peli  for  some  time,  and 
yet  day  after  day  passed,  and  I  remained.  The  day 
previous  to  my  departure  I  was  almost  certain  I  should 
stop,  when  unexpectedly  Laura  herself  helped  me  to  a 
decision. 


104  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

I  told  her  about  the  lawyer's  letter  and  my  going 
away,  only  to  see  how  she  would  receive  the  news.  We 
were  alone.  I  expected  some  exclamation  from  her  part, 
some  emotion,  and  lastly  a  "  veto."  Nothing  of  the  kind 
took  place. 

Hearing  the  news,  she  turned  to  me,  passing  her  hand 
gently  over  my  hair ;  she  brought  her  face  close  to  mine, 
and  said :  — 

"  You  will  come  back,  will  you  not  ?  " 

By  Jove  !  it  is  still  an  enigma  to  me  what  she  meant. 
Did  she  suppose  I  was  really  obliged  to  go  ?  or,  trust- 
ing to  the  power  of  her  beauty,  had  she  no  doubt  what- 
ever that  I  would  come  back  ?  or,  finally,  did  she  grasp 
at  the  chance  to  get  rid  of  me  ?  —  because  after  such 
a  question  there  remained  nothing  for  me  but  to  go. 
The  caressing  touch  and  accompanying  question  are  a 
little  against  the  last  supposition,  which  after  all  seems 
to  me  the  likeliest.  At  odd  moments  I  am  almost  certain 
she  wanted  to  say  by  it :  — 

"  It  is  not  you  who  dismiss  me ;  it  is  I  who  dismiss 
you." 

I  confess  that,  if  it  was  a  dismission,  Laura's  clever- 
ness is  simply  amazing ;  all  the  more  so,  as  the  manner 
was  so  sweet  and  caressing,  and  left  me  in  uncertainty 
whether  she  was  mocking  me  or  not.  But  why  de- 
lude myself?  By  that  simple  question  she  had  won 
the  game.  Perhaps  at  other  times  my  vanity  would 
have  suffered ;  but  now  it  leaves  me  indifferent.  That 
same  evening,  instead  of  coolness,  there  was  perfect  har- 
mony  between  us.  We  separated  very  late.  I  see  her 
still,  walking  with  me,  her  eyes  lowered,  as  far  as  my 
room.  She  was  simply  so  beautiful  that  I  felt  sorry  I 
was  going.  The  next  morning  she  said  good-by  to  me 
at  the  station.  The  bunch  of  tea-roses  I  lost  only  in 
Genoa.  Strange  woman!  As  I  went  further  on  my 
journey,  I  felt  side  by  side  a  physical  longing  and  a 
great  relief.  I  went  on  to  Eome  without  stopping,  and 
now  feel  as  a  bird  released  from  his  cage. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  105 


22  May. 

There  is  scarcely  anybody  I  know  in  Kome.  The  heat 
has  driven  them,  to  their  villas,  or  up  into  the  moun- 
tains. In  the  daytime  there  are  few  people  in  the 
streets  except  tourists,  mostly  Englishmen  in  pith-hel- 
mets, puggarees,  red  Baedekers,  with  their  everlasting 
"  Very  interesting  ! "  on  their  lips.  At  noon  our  Babuino 
is  so  deserted  that  the  footstep  of  a  solitary  passer-by 
re-echoes  on  the  pavement.  But  in  the  evening  the 
street  swarms  with  people.  At  that  time  I  feel  usually 
very  depressed,  nervous,  and  restless.  I  go  out,  and  walk 
about  until  I  am  tired ;  and  that  gives  me  relief.  I  walk 
mostly  on  the  Pincio,  three  or  four  times  along  that 
magnificent  terrace.  At  this  time  lovers  stroll  about, 
^ome  couples  walk  arm  in  arm,  their  heads  close  to- 
gether, their  eyes  uplifted,  as  if  overflowing  with  happi- 
ness ;  others  sit  in  the  deep  shadows  of  the  trees.  The 
dickering  light  of  the  lamp  reveals  now  and  then  half- 
concealed  under  his  plumes  the  profile  of  a  Bersagliere, 
sometimes  the  light  dress  of  a  girl,  or  the  face  of  a  laborer 
or  student.  Whispers  reach  my  ear ;  love-vows  and  low 
snatches  of  song.  All  this  gives  me  the  impression  of  a 
carnival  of  spring.  I  find  a  singular  charm  in  thus  los- 
ing myself  among  the  crowd,  and  breathe  their  gayety 
and  health.  There  is  so  much  happiness  and  simplicity ! 
This  simplicity  seems  to  penetrate  into  my  whole  being, 
and  acts  more  soothingly  upon  my  nerves  than  a  sleep- 
ing draught.  The  evenings  are  clear  and  warm,  but  full 
of  cool  breezes.  The  moon  rises  beyond  Trinita  dei 
Monti,  and  sails  above  that  human  beehive  like  a  great 
silver  bark,  illuminating  the  tops  of  trees,  roofs,  and 
towers.  At  the  foot  of  the  terrace  glimmers  and  surges 
the  city,  and  somewhere  in  the  distance,  on  a  silvery 
background,  appears  the  dark  outline  of  St.  Peter's,  with 
a  shining  cupola  like  a  second  moon.  ISTever  did  Rome 
seem  more  beautiful  to  me,  and  I  discover  new  charms 
every  day.    I  return  home  late,  and  go  to  bed  almost 


106  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

happy  in  the  thought  that  to-morrow  I  shall  wake  up  again 
in  Rome.  And  I  do  sleep.  I  do  not  know  whether  it  is 
the  exercise  I  take,  but  I  sleep  so  heavily  that  it  leaves 
a  kind  of  dizziness  when  I  wake  up  in  the  morning. 

Part  of  the  morning  I  spend  with  the  lawyer.  Some- 
times I  work  at  compiling  a  catalogue  of  the  collections 
for  my  own  use.  My  father  did  not  leave  any  instructions 
as  to  his  collections  ;  consequently  they  are  my  property. 
I  would  hand  them  over  to  the  city,  in  fulfilment  of  his 
wishes,  if  I  were  quite  sure  he  did  wish  it.  As  he  did 
not  will  them  away,  he,  moved  by  my  aunt's  remon- 
strances, may  have  left  it  to  me  to  bring  them  sometime 
or  other  over  to  Poland.  That  my  father  thought  of 
this  in  later  times  is  proved  by  the  numerous  bequests 
and  codicils  in  his  will.  Among  others  there  is  one 
that  touched  me  more  deeply  than  I  can  tell  :  "The 
head  of  the  Madonna  by  Sassoferrato  I  leave  to  my 
future  daughter-in-law." 

25  May. 

The  sculptor  Lukomski  began  a  month  ago  a  full-length 
statue  of  my  father,  from  a  bust  done  by  himself  some 
years  ago.  I  call  upon  him  often  in  the  middle  of  the 
day  to  watch  the  progress  of  the  work.  The  studio  is  a 
barn-like  building,  with  a  huge  skylight  on  the  north 
side ;  consequently  no  sun  comes  in,  and  the  light  is 
cold.  When  I  sit  there  I  seem  to  be  out  of  Rome  alto- 
gether. To  heighten  the  illusion,  there  is  Lukomski, 
with  his  Northern  features,  light  beard,  and  the  dreamy 
blue  eyes  of  a  mystic.  His  two  assistants  are  Poles,  and 
the  two  dogs  in  the  yard  are  called  Kruk  and  Kurta,  — 
in  short,  the  place  has  the  appearance  of  a  northern  isle 
in  a  southern  sea.  I  like  to  go  there  for  the  quaintness 
of  the  thing,  and  I  like  to  watch  Lukomski  at  his  work. 
There  is  in  him  at  the  same  time  so  much  power  and  sim- 
plicity. He  is  especially  interesting  when  he  stands 
back  a  short  distance  so  as  to  get  a  better  view  of  his 
work,  and  then  suddenly  goes  back  as  to  an  attack.     He 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  107 

is  a  very  talented  sculptor.  The  shape  of  my  father 
seems  to  grow  under  his  hand,  and  assume  a  wonderful 
likeness.  It  will  be  not  only  a  portrait,  but  a  work  of 
art. 

If  anybody,  it  is  he  who  is  altogether  absorbed  in  the 
beauty  of  form.  It  seems  to  me  that  he  works  out  his 
thoughts  by  the  help  of  Greek  noses,  heads,  arms,  and 
torsos,  more  than  by  help  of  ideas.  He  has  lived  fifteen 
years  at  Rome,  and  still  goes  to  galleries  and  museums, 
as  if  he  had  arrived  yesterday.  This  proves  that  worship 
of  form  may  fill  a  man's  life,  and  become  his  religion, 
provided  he  is  its  high  priest.  Lukomski  has  as  much 
veneration  for  beauty  in  human  shape  as  devotees  for 
holy  shrines.  I  asked  him  which  he  considered  the 
most  beautiful  woman  in  Rome.  He  answered,  with- 
out hesitation,  "  Mrs.  Davis ; "  and  there  and  then,  with 
his  plastic  thumbs,  with  the  expressive  motion  common 
to  artists,  he  began  to  draw  her  outline  in  the  air. 
Lukomski,  as  a  rule,  is  self-contained  and  melancholy ; 
but  at  this  moment  he  was  so  animated  that  his  eyes  lost 
their  mystic  expression.  "  Like  this,  for  instance,"  he 
said,  drawing  a  new  line,  "  or  like  that.  She  is  the  most 
beautiful  woman  not  only  in  Rome,  but  in  the  whole 
world."  He  says  that  when  she  lifts  her  head,  the  neck 
is  as  the  continuation  of  the  face,  —  the  same  breadth, 
which  is  very  rare ;  sometime  on  the  Transtevere  one 
might  see  women  with  similar  necks  ;  but  never  in  that 
perfection.  Really,  who  seeks  to  find  a  flaw  in  Laura's 
beauty,  must  seek  in  vain.  Lukomski  goes  so  far  as 
to  maintain  that  statues  ought  to  be  raised  to  women 
like  her  in  their  lifetime.  Of  course,  I  did  not  contra- 
dict him. 

29  May. 

The  Italian  law  procedure  begins  to  bore  me.     How 

slow  they  are,  in  spite  of  their  vivacity !  and  how  they 

talk !    I  am  literally  talked  to  shreds.    I  sent  for  some  of 

the  newest  French  novels,  and  read  for  whole  days.    The 


108  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

writers  make  upon  me  the  impression  of  clever  draughts- 
men.  How  quickly  and  skilfully  each  character  is  out- 
lined !  and  what  character  and  power  in  those  sketches  ! 
The  technical  part  can  go  no  farther.  As  to  the  charac- 
ters thus  drawn,  I  can  only  say  what  I  said  before,  — 
their  love  is  only  skin  deep.  This  may  be  the  case  now 
and  then  ;  but  that  in  the  whole  of  France  nobody  should 
be  capable  of  deeper  feelings,  let  them  tell  this  to  some- 
body else.  I  know  France  too  well,  and  say  that  she  is 
better  than  her  literature.  That  running  after  glaring, 
realistic  truth  makes  the  novel  untrue  to  life.  It  is  the 
individual  we  love ;  and  the  individual  is  composed  not 
only  of  face,  voice,  shape,  and  expression,  but  also  of 
intelligence,  character,  a  way  of  thinking,  —  in  brief,  of 
various  intellectual  and  moral  elements.  My  relation  to 
Laura  is  the  best  proof  that  a  feeling  founded  upon  out- 
ward admiration  does  not  deserve  the  name  of  love. 
Besides,  Laura  is  an  exceptional  case. 

31  May. 

Yesterday  I  lunched  with  Lukomski ;  in  the  evening 
I  loitered  as  usual  on  the  Pincio.  My  imagination 
sometimes  plays  me  strange  tricks.  I  fancied  that 
Aniela  was  leaning  on  my  arm.  We  walked  together, 
and  talked  like  people  who  are  very  fond  of  each  other. 
I  felt  so  happy,  —  so  different  from  what  I  had  felt  near 
Laura  !  When  the  illusion  vanished  I  felt  very  lonely  ; 
I  did  not  want  to  go  home.  That  night  I  could  not 
sleep  at  all. 

How  utterly  unprofitable  my  life  is  !  These  continual 
searchings  of  my  mind  are  leading  me  into  the  desert. 
And  it  might  have  been  so  different !  I  am  surprised 
that  the  memory  of  Aniela  should  be  still  so  fresh  and 
green.  Why  is  it  that  I  never  dream  of  walking  arm- 
in-arm  with  Laura  ?  And  since  I  come  to  mention  her 
name,  I  add  inwardly,  "  Perdition  upon  the  memory  ! " 
I  often  think  I  have  been  holding  happiness  by  both 
wingS;  and  let  it  escape. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  109 


2  June. 

I  never  was  so  amazed  in  my  life  as  to-day,  in  regard 
to  Lukomski.  "We  went  together  to  the  museum  on  the 
Capitol.  When  near  the  Venus,  he  surprised  me  by 
saying  he  preferred  the  Neapolitan  Psyche  by  Praxiteles, 
as  being  more  spiritual.  A  strange  confession  from  a 
sculptor  like  him ;  but  a  greater  surprise  was  in  store 
for  me  near  "  The  Dying  Gladiator."  Lukomski  looked 
at  him  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  then  said,  through 
clenched  teeth,  as  he  does  when  deeply  moved,  — 

"  I  have  heard  it  said  a  hundred  times  that  he  has  a 
Slavonic  face,  but  really  the  likeness  is  wonderful.  My 
brother  has  a  farm,  —  Koslowka,  near  Sierpiec.  There 
was  one  of  the  laborers,  Michna,  who  was  drowned 
driving  horses  through  the  water.  I  tell  you  it  is 
exactly  the  same  face.  I  come  here  very  often  for  an 
hour,  because  I  feel  a  longing  to  look  at  it." 

I  could  not  believe  my  ears,  and  was  surprised  the 
roof  of  the  Capitol  did  not  come  down  on  our  heads. 
Sierpiec,  Koslowka,  Michna,  here  in  the  world  of  the 
antique,  of  classic  forms  !  and  from  whose  lips  ?  —  from 
those  of  Lukomski !  I  saw  at  once,  peeping  out  from 
beneath  the  sculptor,  the  man.  And  that  is  the  artist, 
I  thought,  —  that  the  Roman,  the  Greek  !  You  come 
here  to  look  at  the  Gladiator,  not  so  much  for  the 
sake  of  the  form,  as  because  he  reminds  you  of  Michna 
from  Koslowka.  I  begin  to  understand  now  the  taci- 
turnity and  melancholy.  Lukomski  evidently  guessed 
my  thoughts ;  for,  the  mystic  eyes  looking  straight 
before  him,  he  began  in  a  broken  voice  to  reply  to  my 
unuttered  words :  "  Rome  is  well  enough,  —  to  live  in, 
but  not  to  die  in !  I  am  getting  on  fairly  well,  —  no 
right  to  complain.  I  remain  here  because  I  must ;  but 
the  longing  for  the  old  place  tears  me  like  all  the 
devils.  When  the  dogs  bark  at  night  in  the  garden,  I 
fancy  the  sound  comes  from  the  village  ;  and  I  feel  as  if 
I  could  scratch  the  walls.     I  should  go  mad  if  I  did  not 


110  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

go  there  once  a  year.  I  am  going  now,  shortly,  because 
I  cannot  breathe  here  any  longer." 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  tlaroat,  and  screwed  up  his 
mouth  as  if  to  whistle,  to  hide  the  trembling  of  the  lips. 
It  was  almost  an  explosion,  —  the  more  astounding,  as  it 
was  so  unexpected.  A  sudden  emotion  seized  me  at  the 
thought  of  the  vast  difference  between  me  and  such  men 
as  he  and  Sniatynski.  Even  now  I  think  of  it  with  a 
certain  apprehension.  There  are  vast  horizons  out  of 
my  reach.  What  an  intensity  of  feeling  there  is  in 
those  men !  They  may  be  happy  or  wretched  with 
it ;  but  how  immeasurably  richer  they  are  than  I  ! 
There  is  no  danger  of  life  becoming  to  them  a  desert 
and  a  barren  wilderness.  In  each  of  them  there  is  life 
enough  for  ten.  I  too  feel  conscious  of  ties  to  my 
country ;  but  the  consciousness  is  not  so  pressing,  does 
not  burn  with  the  same  steady  light,  and  is  not  part 
of  myself.  My  existence  does  not  depend  upon  any 
Koslowka,  Michna,  or  Ploszow.  Where  men  such  as 
Sniatynski  or  Lukomski  find  live  springs  from  which 
they  draw  their  motive  vigor,  I  find  dry  sand.  And  yet, 
if  they  had  not  this  basis,  there  remains  still,  for  one  his 
sculpture,  for  the  other  his  literature.  It  seems  incredi- 
ble that  a  man  possessing  so  many  conditions  of  happi- 
ness should  be  not  only  so  little  happy,  but  clearly  does 
not  see  the  reason  why  he  should  exist  at  all. 

It  is  doubtless  my  bringing  up  which  has  something 
to  do  with  it,  —  those  Metzes,  Romes,  Paris ;  I  have 
always  been  as  a  tree  taken  from  its  soil  and  not  firmly 
planted  in  another.  Partly  it  is  my  own  fault;  because 
I  am  putting  points  of  interrogation  all  along  the  road  of 
life,  and  philosophize  where  others  love  only.  The  con- 
sequence is  that  philosophy,  instead  of  giving  me  any- 
thing, has  eaten  my  heart  away. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  Ill 


8  June. 

I  note  down  the  occurrerces  of  a  whole  week.  I 
received,  among  other  letters,  one  from  Sniatynski. 
The  honest  fellow  is  so  concerned  about  the  turn  ray 
affair  with  Aniela  has  taken  that  he  does  not  even 
abuse  me.  He  tells  me,  though,  that  his  wife  is  angry 
past  forgiveness,  and  does  not  allow  my  name  to  be 
mentioned  in  her  presence,  —  considers  me  a  perfect 
monster,  who  finds  his  only  delight  in  gloating  over 
fresh  victims.  For  once  I  am  a  good  Christian,  and  not 
only  do  not  bear  malice  to  the  little  woman,  but  feel 
very  friendly  towards  her.  What  a  warm,  generous 
heart  hers  is  !  Sniatynski  evidently  thinks  the  question 
finally  settled ;  for  he  refrains  from  advice,  and  only 
expresses  sorrow. 

"God  grant,"  he  writes,  "you  may  find  another  like 
her."  Strange,  when  I  come  to  think  of  it !  It  seems 
to  me  that  I  do  not  want  another  like  Aniela,  or  a 
better  one  either,  —  I  want  her.  I  say  it  seems  to  me  ; 
for  it  is  a  feeling  without  any  definite  shape.  I  carry 
within  me  something  like  an  entangled  skein ;  I  weary 
myself,  and  yet  am  not  able  to  reduce  it  to  any  kind  of 
order.  In  spite  of  all  my  self-knowledge,  I  cannot  quite 
make  out  what  it  is  that  makes  me  feel  sad.  Is  it  be- 
cause I  find  I  love  her,  or  is  it  because  I  feel  I  could  love 
her  very  much  ?  Sniatynski  unconsciously  replies  to  this 
question  in  these  words  :  "  I  have  heard  or  read  that  gold 
nuggets  have  sometimes  a  large  admixture  of  quartz,which 
must  be  crushed  in  order  to  get  at  the  gold.  I  suppose 
your  heart  is  thus  covered  with  an  incrustation,  that  only 
partly  melted  while  you  were  staying  at  Ploszow.  You 
did  not  remain  long  enough,  and  simply  had  no  time  to 
let  your  love  grow  sufiiciently  strong.  You  have,  maybe, 
energy  enough  to  act,  but  not  enough  to  decide  ;  but  you 
would  have  found  the  energy  if  the  feeling  had  been 
powerful  enough.  You  went  away,  and  according  to  your 
custom,  began  to  ponder,  to  think  it  over ;  and  it  came 


112  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

to  pass,  as  I  was  afraid  it  would,  that  you  philosophized 
away  your  own  happiness  and  that  of  another. "  What 
strikes  rae  most  in  Sniatynski's  words  is  that  they  are 
almost  a  repetition  of  what  my  father  said  to  me.  But 
Sniatynski  penetrates  deeper  ;  for  he  adds  almost  imme- 
diately :  "  It  is  the  old  story,  —  he  who  inquires  too 
deeply  into  his  own  mind  ends  by  disagreeing  with  him- 
self ;  and  who  disagrees  with  himself  is  incapable  of  any 
decision.  Truly  times  must  be  out  of  joint,  when  only 
asses  have  any  power  of  action  left,  and  those  who  have 
a  little  more  intelligence  use  it  to  doubt  everything,  and 
to  persuade  themselves  that  it  is  not  worth  while  to 
attempt  anything."  I  have  read  similar  observations  in 
one  of  the  French  authors  ;  and  by  Jove  !  he  is  right. 

I  almost  wish  Sniatynski  had  given  me  a  downright 
scolding,  instead  of  larding  his  letter  with  sentences  like 
this :  "  In  spite  of  all  your  good  qualities  it  will  come 
to  this,  that  you  will  always  be  a  cause  of  suffering  and 
anxiety  to  those  who  love  you."  He  brings  it  home  with 
a  vengeance.  I  have  caused  suffering  to  Aniela,  her 
mother,  and  my  aunt,  and  to  myself  also.  I  feel  in- 
clined to  laugh  a  little  as  I  read  further :  "  According  to 
the  laws  of  nature,  there  is  always  something  growing 
■within  us ;  beware,  lest  it  be  a  poisonous  weed  that  will 
destroy  your  whole  existence  ! "  No,  —  I  am  not  afraid 
of  that.  There  is  some  mould  sown  by  Laura's  fair  hands, 
but  it  grows  only  on  the  outward  crust  of  which  Snia- 
tynski speaks,  and  has  not  struck  any  roots.  There  is  no 
need  of  uprooting  anything ;  it  is  as  easily  wiped  off  as 
•dust.  Sniatynski  is  more  reasonable  when  he  is  himself 
again,  and  steps  forth  with  his  pet  dogma  that  lies  always 
close  to  his  heart :  ''  If  you  consider  yourself  a  superior 
type,  or  even  if  you  be  such,  let  me  tell  you  that  the  sum 
total  of  such  superiority,  is  socially,  a  minus  quantity," 

I  am  far  from  considering  myself  a  superior  type, 
unless  it  be  in  comparison  to  such  as  Kromitzki;  but 
Sniatynski  is  right.  Men  like  me  escape  being  minus 
quantities  in  society  only  when  they  are  men  of  science 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  113 

or  great  artists,  —  not  artists  without  portfolios.  Often 
they  take  the  part  of  great  reformers.  As  to  myself  I 
could  only  be  a  reformer  as  regards  my  own  person.  I 
went  about  with  that  thought  all  the  day. 

It  is  surpassing  strange  that,  knowing  my  own  short- 
comings so  well,  I  do  not  make  any  attempt  to  mend  mat- 
ters. For  instance,  after  debating  for  half  a  day  whether 
to  go  out  or  not,  ought  I  not  to  take  myself  by  the  col- 
lar and  thrust  myself  into  the  street  ?  I  am  a  sceptic  ? 
—  very  well !  Could  I  not  act  for  once  as  if  I  were  not 
a  sceptic  ?  A  little  more  or  less  conviction,  what  does  it 
matter  ?  What  ought  I  to  do  now  ?  Pack  up  my  things 
and  go  straight  to  Ploszow.  I  could  do  it  easily  enough. 
What  the  result  of  such  a  step  would  be,  I  do  not  know, 
but  at  any  rate  it  would  be  doing  something.  Then  Sni- 
atynski  writes  :  "  That  ape  is  now  every  day  at  Ploszow, 
keeping  watch  over  the  ladies,  who,  without  that  addi- 
tional trouble,  are  worn  to  shadows." 

PeAaps  it  is  too  late.  Sniatynski  does  not  say  when  he 
was  last  at  Ploszow,  perhaps  a  week  ago  or  maybe  two  ; 
since  then  things  may  have  gone  much  farther.  Yes, 
but  I  do  not  know  anything  for  certain,  and  when  all  is 
said  how  can  it  be  worse  than  it  is  already  ?  I  feel  that 
anybody  with  a  little  more  energy  in  his  composition, 
would  go  at  once,  and  I  should  feel  more  respect  for  my- 
self if  I  brought  myself  to  do  it,  especially  as  Sniatynski, 
who  is  usually  so  enterprising,  does  not  urge  me.  The 
very  thought  brightens  me  up,  and  in  this  brightness  I 
see  a  beloved  face  which  at  this  moment  is  dearer  to  me 
than  anything  else  in  the  world,  and  —  per  Baccho !  I 
shall  most  probably  do  it. 


9  June. 
"  La  nuit  porte  conseil."    I  will  not  go  at  once  to  Plos- 
zow, it  would  be  a  journey  in  the  dark ;  but  I  have  writ- 
ten a  long  letter  to  my  aunt,  quite  different  from  that  I 
wrote  at  Peli.    Within  a  week,  or  at  the  most  ten  days, 

8  .. 


114  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

I  shall  get  an  answer,  and  according  to  it  I  shall  either 
go  or  stay,  —  in  fact,  I  do  not  know  myself  yet  what  I 
shall  do.  I  might  count  upon  a  favorable  answer  if  I 
had  written  for  instance  like  this :  "  Dearest  aunt,  send 
Kromitzki  about  his  business;  I  beg  Aniela  to  forgive 
me.  I  love  her,  and  my  dearest  wish  is  to  make  her  ray 
wife."  Unless  she  were  married  already,  —  and  things 
could  not  have  been  managed  there  so  speedily,  —  such 
a  letter  could  have  but  one  result.  But  I  did  not  write 
anything  of  that  kind.  My  missive  was  intended  to  re- 
connoitre the  position,  sent  in  fact  as  a  scout  to  find  out 
how  affairs  were  progressing,  and  partly,  to  learn  what 
Aniela  was  thinking.  To  say  the  truth,  if  I  did  not  ex- 
press myself  more  definitely,  it  is  because  experience  has 
taught  me  to  mistrust  myself.  Ah !  if  Aniela,  in  spite 
of  the  wrong  inflicted  upon  her  by  me,  refused  Kromit- 
zki, how  gratified  I  should  feel  towards  her ;  and  how  im- 
measurably higher  she  would  rise  in  my  esteem  if  once 
removed  from  the  ranks  of  marriageable  girls  whose 
only  aim  is  to  get  a  husband.  What  a  pity  I  ever  heard 
about  Kromitzki.  Once  rid  of  the  entanglement  with 
Laura,  I  should  have  flown  on  wings  to  Aniela's  side. 
This  dear  aunt  has  managed  things  with  a  clumsy  hand 
in  writing  to  me  about  Kromitzki  and  the  encourage- 
ment he  had  from  Aniela's  mother.  In  these  times  of 
overwrought  nerves,  it  is  not  only  women  that  are  like 
sensitive  plants.  A  rough  touch,  and  the  soul  shrinks, 
folds  itself  up,  maybe  forever.  I  know  it  is  foolish, 
even  wrong,  but  I  cannot  help  it.  To  change  myself  I 
should  have  to  order  at  an  anatomist's  a  new  set  of 
nerves,  and  keep  those  I  have  for  special  occasions. 
No  one,  not  even  Pani  Sniatynski,  can  judge  me  more 
severely  than  I  judge  myself.  But  is  Kromitzki  better 
than  I  ?  Is  his  low,  money-making  neurosis  better 
than  mine  ?  Without  any  boastfulness  I  may  say  that  I 
have  more  delicacy  of  feeling,  nobler  impulses,  a  better 
heart,  more  tenderness,  and — his  own  mother  would  be 
obliged  to  own  it  —  more  intelligence.    It  is  true  I  could 


WITHOUT  DOGMAl  115 

not  make  millions  to  save  my  life ;  but  then  Kromitzki 
has  not  achieved  it  yet;  instead  of  that,  I  could  guar- 
antee that  my  wife  would  spend  her  life  in  a  broader 
and  warmer  atmosphere ;  there  would  be  more  sincerity 
in  it  and  nobler  aims. 

It  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  compared  myself  to 
Kromitzki,  and  it  makes  me  angry  considering  what  a 
vast  difference  there  is  between  us.  We  are  like  inhabi- 
tants of  different  planets,  and  as  to  our  souls,  if  one  has 
to  climb  up  to  reach  mine,  such  as  Aniela  would  have  to 
stoop  very  low  to  reach  his.  But  would  this  be  such  a 
difficult  task  for  her  ?  It  is  a  horrible  question ;  but  in 
regard  to  women  I  have  seen  so  monstrous  things,  espe- 
cially in  my  country  where  the  women  generally  speaking 
are  superior  to  the  men,  that  I  am  obliged  to  consider 
it.  I  have  seen  girls,  angels  in  all  but  wings,  full  of 
noble  impulses,  sensitive  to  everything  beautiful  and 
uncommon,  not  only  marry  louts  of  narrow  and  mean 
characters,  but  adopt  after  marriage  their  husbands'  max- 
ims of  life,  vanities,  narrowness,  and  commonplace  opin- 
ions. What  is  more,  some  of  them  did  this  eagerly,  as 
if  former  ideals  were  only  fit  to  be  thrown  aside  with  the 
bridal  wreath.  They  seemed  to  labor  under  the  convic- 
tion that  only  thus  they  could  prove  themselves  true 
wives.  It  is  true  that  sometimes  a  reaction  follows,  but 
in  a  general  sense  Shakspeare's  Titania  is  a  common 
enough  type,  to  be  met  with  every  day. 

I  am  a  sceptic  from  the  crown  of  my  head  to  the  soles 
of  my  feet,  but  my  scepticism  springs  from  pain,  for  it 
hurts  me  to  think  that  such  may  be  Aniela's  fate.  Per- 
haps she  too  will  shrug  her  shoulders  at  the  memory  of 
her  girlish  aspirations,  and  consider  contracts  in  Turke- 
stan better  adapted  to  practical  life.  A  dull  wrath  seizes 
me  at  the  thought,  all  the  more  as  it  will  be  partly  my 
fault,  that  is,  if  it  should  come  to  that. 

On  the  other  side  these  reflections  and  vacillations  are 
not  merely  the  result  of  a  want  of  decision,  as  Sniatynski 
seems  to  think.     I  have  such  a  high  conception  about 


116  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

marriage,  sucli  lofty  demands,  that  they  take  away  my 
courage.  It  is  true  that  often  husband  and  wife  fit  each 
other  like  two  warped  boards,  and  yet  jog  through  life 
contentedly  enough ;  but  this  would  not  be  enough  for 
me.  For  the  very  reason  that  I  believe  in  happiness 
so  little,  I  should  like  to  attain  it ;  but  can  I  attain  it  ? 
It  is  not  so  much  the  unhappy  marriages  I  have  met 
with  that  make  me  so  wavering,  but  the  few  happy  ones 
I  have  seen  ;  at  the  remembrance  of  these  I  ask  myself, 
"  Is  it  possible  I  could  be  so  happy  ?  "  And  yet  happi- 
ness is  not  met  with  in  fiction  only,  —  but  how  to  know 
where  to  look  for  it ! 


11  June. 

In  the  last  few  days  I  have  become  quite  intimate  with 
Lukomski.  He  is  not  so  self-contained  and  melancholy 
as  he  used  to  be.  Yesterday,  towards  evening,  he  came 
to  see  me ;  we  went  out  for  a  walk  as  far  as  the  Thermes 
of  Caracalla ;  then  I  asked  him  to  come  back  with  me, 
and  he  stopped  until  midnight.  I  had  a  long  talk  with 
him,  which  I  note  down,  as  it  made  upon  me  a  certain 
impression.  Lukomski  seemed  a  little  ashamed  of  the 
exhibition  of  feeling  he  had  made  near  "  The  Dying 
Gladiator ;  "  but  I  led  him  on  and  gradually  came  to 
know  the  man  as  he  really  was.  As  we  were  growing 
very  friendly  I  ventured  to  remark,  — 

"Excuse  the  question,  but  I  cannot  understand  why 
a  man  so  fond  of  domestic  life  has  not  taken  to  himself 
a  companion.  Neither  your  studio,  your  assistants,  nor 
your  dogs  can  give  you  the  feeling  of  a  home  you  are 
missing,  as  a  wife  would." 

Lukomski  smiled,  and  pointing  to  the  ring  on  his  fin- 
ger, said,  — 

"  I  am  going  to  be  married  shortly.  We  are  only  wait- 
ing because  the  young  lady  is  in  mourning  for  her  father ; 
I  am  to  join  her  in  two  months." 

"  At  Sierpiec  ?  " 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  117 

"  No,  she  comes  from  Wilkomierz." 

"  What  took  you  to  Wilkomierz  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  been  there.  I  met  her  by  accident  on 
the  Corso  in  Eome." 

"  That  was  a  fortunate  accident,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"The  most  fortunate  in  my  life." 

"  Was  it  during  the  Carnival  ?  " 

"  No.  It  happened  in  this  way :  I  was  on  my  way  to 
the  studio  when,  in  the  Via  Condotto,  I  saw  two  fair- 
haired  women  inquiring  in  very  bad  Italian  the  way  to 
the  Capitol.  They  were  saying :  '  Capitolio,  Capitole, 
Capitol,'  and  nobody  seemed  to  know  what  they  wanted, 
because  here,  as  you  know,  they  call  it  '  Campidolio.' 
I  could  not  have  been  mistaken,  —  they  were  Poles,  evi- 
dently mother  and  daughter.  They  were  overjoyed  when 
I  addressed  them  in  Polish ;  I  was  very  glad  too,  and  so 
I  not  only  showed  them  the  way  but  went  there  with 
them." 

"  You  have  no  idea  how  this  interests  me ;  and  so  you 
went  together  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  went  together.  On  the  way  I  looked  at  the 
younger  lady;  a  figure  like  a  young  poplar,  graceful, 
pretty,  a  small  head,  ears  a  perfect  model,  the  face  full 
of  expression,  and  eyelashes  pure  gold,  such  as,  you  find 
only  at  home ;  there  is  nothing  of  that  kind  here,  unless 
now  and  then  at  Venice.  She  pleased  me  very  much  too 
because  of  that  thoughtfuluess  for  her  mother,  who  was 
in  grief,  having  lost  her  husband ;  I  thought  she  must 
have  a  good  heart.  For  about  a  week  I  went  with  them 
everywhere,  and  then  asked  for  the  young  lady's  hand." 

"  After  a  week's  acquaintance  ;  is  it  possible  ?  " 

"  Yes,  because  the  ladies  were  going  back  to  Florence." 

"  At  any  rate  you  are  not  one  of  those  who  take  a  long 
time  to  make  up  their  minds." 

"  At  home  it  would  have  taken  much  longer ;  but  here, 
sir,  the  very  thought  they  were  my  countrywomen  made 
me  long  to  kiss  their  hands." 

"Yes,  but  marriage  is  such  an  important  step," 


118  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

"  That  is  true ;  but  three  or  four  weeks  more  would 
not  help  me  to  a  clearer  view  of  it.  I  had  certain 
scruples,  I  confess ;  I  feel  a  little  reluctant  to  speak  of 
it.  In  our  family  there  is  hereditary  deafness.  My 
grandfather  at  an  advanced  age  became  quite  deaf. 
My  father  was  deaf  at  forty.  One  can  live  with  that, 
but  it  is  a  great  drawback,  because  deaf  people  as  a 
rule  are  irritable.  I  debated  within  myself  whether  it 
was  right  for  a  young  girl  to  marry  a  man  threatened 
with  such  a  defect,  and  who  in  course  of  time  might  be- 
come a  burden  to  her." 

I  began  to  observe  now  that  Lukomski  had  in  the  ex- 
pression of  his  eyes,  and  the  way  he  listened  to  what  was 
said  to  him,  a  certain  peculiarity  noticed  in  deaf  people. 
His  hearing  was  still  excellent,  but  he  evidently  feared 
that  he  might  be  losing  the  faculty. 

I  told  him  he  had  no  right  to  let  that  stand  in  his 
way. 

'*  I  thought  so  a  little  myself.  It  is  not  worth  while 
to  spoil  one's  life  for  a  thing  that  may  never  happen. 
There  is  the  cholera  that  sweeps  now  and  then  over 
Italy ;  it  would  be  foolish  for  Italians  not  to  marry 
for  fear  they  might  leave  orphans  and  widows.  Be- 
sides I  have  done  what  I  considered  my  duty.  I  told 
Panna  Vanda  that  I  loved  her  and  would  give  my  life  to 
call  her  my  own,  but  there  was  this  impediment.  And 
do  you  know  what  her  answer  was  ?  '  When  you  are  no 
longer  able  to  hear  me  saying  I  love  you,  I  will  write  it.' 
All  this  did  not  come  off  without  some  crying,  but  an 
hour  afterwards  we  made  merry  over  it.  I  pretended 
to  have  suddenly  grown  deaf,  to  make  her  write,  '  I  love 
you.'  " 

This  conversation  fixed  itself  in  my  mind.  Sniatynski 
is  wrong  when  he  maintains  that  among  us  only  asses 
have  still  a  kind  of  will.  This  sculptor  had  a  real  mo- 
tive to  reflect,  and  yet  a  week  seemed  sufficient  for  such 
a  weighty  decision.  Maybe  he  does  not  possess  the  same 
Jinowledge  of  self  as  I,  but  he  is  a  very  intelligent  fel- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  119 

low.  What  a  plucky  woman  the  future  Pani  Lukomska 
is  ;  I  like  her  ready  answer.  Aniela  would  do  the  same. 
If,  for  instance,  I  were  to  lose  my  eyesight,  Laura  would 
care  only  in  so  far  as  she  could  show  me  off,  a  pictur- 
esque Demadoc,  singing  at  her  feast ;  but  Aniela  would 
take  care  of  me  even  if  she  were  not  my  wife. 

I  must  acknowledge  that,  having  such  convictions,  a 
week  of  indecision  seems  a  long  time ;  and  here  I  have 
been  wavering  for  five  months,  and  the  letter  I  wrote  to 
my  aunt  was  not  very  decisive  either. 

But  I  comfort  myself  with  the  thought  that  my  aunt 
is  a  clever  woman,  and  loving  me  as  she  does,  will  guess 
what  I  meant  to  say,  and  will  help  me  in  her  own  way ; 
and  then  there  is  Aniela  who  will  assist  her.  Never- 
theless, I  regret  now  that  I  did  not  write  more  openly, 
and  I  feel  half  inclined  to  send  another  letter,  but  will 
not  yield  to  the  impulse.  Perhaps  it  will  be  as  well  to 
wait  for  the  reply.  Happy  those  people,  like  Lukomski, 
whose  first  impulse  is  towards  action. 


15  June. 
Whatever  name  I  might  give  to  the  feeling  I  cherish 
for  Aniela,  it  is  different  from  anything  I  ever  felt 
before.  Either  night  or  day  she  is  never  out  of  my 
thought ;  it  has  grown  into  a  kind  of  personal  affair  for 
which  I  feel  responsible  to  myself.  This  never  used  to 
be  the  case.  My  other  love  affairs  lasted  a  longer  or 
shorter  time,  their  memories  were  pleasant  sometimes,  a 
little  sad  at  others,  or  distasteful  as  the  case  might  be, 
but  never  absorbed  my  whole  being.  In  the  idle,  aim- 
less life  we  are  leading,  woman,  perforce,  occupies  a  large 
space,  —  she  is  always  before  us ;  we  bestow  our  attentions 
upon  her  until  we  become  so  used  to  it  that  she  counts 
only  as  a  venial  sin  in  our  lives.  To  disappoint  a  wo- 
man causes  us  but  little  trouble  of  conscience,  though  a 
little  more  perhaps  than  she  feels  in  disappointing  us. 
With  all  the  sensitiveness  of  my  nature,  I  have  a  rather 


120  IWITHOUT  DOGMA. 

blunted  conscience.  Sometimes  it  happened  I  said  to 
myself,  "  Now  is  the  time  for  a  pathetic  lecture  !  "  but  1 
only  shrugged  my  shoulders  and  preferred  to  think  of 
something  more  pleasant.  This  time  it  is  altogether  dif- 
ferent. For  instance,  I  think  of  something  that  has  no 
connection  with  it  whatever ;  presently  I  am  overcome 
by  a  feeling  that  something  is  missing,  a  great  trouble 
seizes  me,  a  fear  as  if  I  had  forgotten  something  of 
great  importance,  not  done  a  thing  I  ought  to  have 
done ;  and  I  find  out  that  the  thought  of  Aniela  has  per- 
colated through  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  mind,  and 
taken  possession  of  it.  It  knocks  there  night  and  day 
like  the  death-tick  in  the  desk  of  Mickiewicz's  poem. 
When  I  try  to  lessen  or  to  ridicule  the  impression,  my 
scepticism  and  irony  fail  me,  or  rather  help  me  only 
for  a  moment ;  then  I  go  back  to  the  enchanted  circle. 
Strictly  speaking,  it  is  neither  a  great  sorrow  nor  a  sting 
of  conscience ;  it  is  rather  a  troublesome  fastening  upon 
one  subject,  and  a  restless,  feverish  curiosity  as  to  what 
will  happen  next,  —  as  if  upon  that  next  my  very  life  de- 
pended. If  I  analyzed  myself  less  closely,  I  should  say  it 
was  an  all-absorbing  love  that  had  taken  possession  of  me; 
but  I  notice  that  there  is  something  besides  Aniela  that 
causes  me  anxiety.  There  is  no  doubt  as  to  her  having 
made  a  deep  impression  upon  me  ;  but  Sniatynski  is 
right,  —  if  I  had  loved  her  as  much  as  Sniatynski  loved 
his  wife,  I  should  have  desired  to  make  her  my  own. 
But  I  —  and  this  is  quite  a  fact  —  do  not  desire  her  so 
much  as  I  am  afraid  to  lose  her.  It  is  not  everybody 
perhaps  who  could  perceive  the  singular  and  great  dif- 
ference. I  feel  quite  convinced  that  but  for  Kromitzki 
and  the  fear  of  losing  Aniela,  I  should  not  feel  either 
anxieties  or  trouble.  My  entangled  skein  is  gradually 
getting  straighter,  and  I  can  see  now  more  clearly  that 
it  is  not  so  much  love  for  Aniela  as  fear  of  losing  her, 
and  with  her  some  future  happiness,  that  moves  me,  and 
still  more  the  utter  loneliness  I  see  before  me  should 
Aniela  go  out  from  my  life. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  121 

I  have  noticed  that  the  stoutest  pessimists,  when  fate 
or  men  try  to  take  something  out  of  their  lives,  fight 
tooth  and  nail,  and  cry  out  as  loud  as  the  greatest  opti- 
mists. I  am  exactly  in  the  like  position.  I  do  not 
cry  Gilt,  but  a  terrible  fear  clutches  at  my  heart,  that  a 
few  days  hence  I  shall  not  know  what  to  do  with  my- 
self in  this  world. 


16  Juue. 

I  had  indirect  news  of  Laura  through  my  lawyer,  who 
is  also  their  legal  adviser,  Mr.  Davis  is  already  in  a 
lunatic  asylum,  and  Laura  at  Interlaken,  at  the  foot  of 
the  Jungfrau.  Perhaps  she  has  some  ideas  about  climb- 
ing the  mountain  heights,  drapes  herself  in  Alps,  eternal 
snow,  and  rising  sun,  sails  gracefully  on  the  lake,  and 
bends  over  precipices.  I  expressed  my  regret  at  Mr. 
Davis's  condition,  and  the  lady's,  who  at  so  early  an  age 
was  left  without  protection.  Thereupon  the  old  lawyer 
set  my  mind  at  rest,  telling  me  that  Count  Maleschi,  a 
Neapolitan,  and  Laura's  cousin,  had  gone  to  Switzerland. 
I  know  him.  He  is  beautiful  as  an  Autinous,  but  an  in- 
veterate gambler,  and  somewhat  of  a  coward.  It  appears 
I  was  a  little  out  of  my  reckoning  when  I  compared 
Laura  to  the  tower  of  Pisa. 

It  has  happened  to  me  li  terally  for  the  first  time  that 
the  memory  of  a  woman  whom  I  did  not  love,  though 
I  made  her  believe  I  did,  rouses  within  me  much  ill- 
feeling.  I  am  so  ungrateful  and  ungenerous  to  her  that 
it  makes  me  feel  ashamed.  Plainly,  what  reason  have  I 
for  any  ill-feeling,  and  what  has  she  done  to  me  that  I 
cannot  forgive  ?  It  is  because,  as  I  said  before,  from  the 
very  beginning  of  our  relations,  though  not  through  any 
fault  of  hers,  I  did  many  things  I  have  never  done  before 
in  my  life.  I  did  not  respect  my  sorrow,  had  no  considera- 
tion for  the  weakness  and  helplessness  of  Davis,  got  cor- 
rupted, slothful,  and  finally  sent  off  that  fatal  letter. 


122  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

It  is  all  my  fault !  But  the  blind  man  when  he  stum- 
bles over  a  stone,  curses  the  stone,  not  the  blindness  that 
made  him  stumble. 


17  June. 

To-day  I  paid  Lukomski,  gave  a  power  of  attorney  to 
the  lawyer,  had  my  things  packed,  and  am  ready  for  the 
journey.     Rome  begins  to  pall  upon  me. 


18  June. 

I  have  been  counting  that  my  aunt's  reply  ought  to 
have  reached  me  by  this.  Putting  aside  all  the  worst 
suppositions,  I  try  to  guess  what  she  is  going  to  tell  me. 
I  regret,  for  I  do  not  know  how  many  times,  that  my 
letter  was  not  more  conclusive.  Yet  I  wrote  that  I 
would  come  to  Ploszow  if  I  felt  sure  my  presence  would 
be  acceptable  to  my  aunt's  guests,  sending  them  my 
kindest  regards  at  the  same  time.  I  also  mentioned  that 
during  the  last  days  of  my  stay  at  Peli  I  felt  so  irritable 
that  I  scarcely  knew  what  I  was  doing.  The  letter, 
while  I  was  writing  it,  seemed  to  me  very  clever ;  now  it 
appears  to  me  as  the  height  of  folly.  It  was  simply  that 
my  vanity  did  not  permit  me  to  revoke  clearly  and  de- 
cidedly what  I  had  written  previously.  I  counted  upon 
my  aunt  grasping  at  the  opportunity  I  gave  her  for  set- 
tling matters,  and  then  I  meant  to  make  my  appearance 
as  the  generous  prince.  Human  nature  is  very  pitiful 
Nothing  now  remains  but  to  hold  fast  to  the  hope  that 
my  aunt  would  guess  how  it  stood  with  me. 

With  my  anxiety  increasing  every  moment,  I  feel  not 
only  that  I  could  have  loved  Aniela,  but  that  I  do  love 
her  beyond  expression,  and  also  that  I  might  become  an 
incomparably  better  man.  Strictly  speaking,  why  do  I 
act  as  if  beyond  nerves  and  egoism  there  were  nothing 
else  in  me  ?  and  if  there  be  anything  else,  why  does 
not  my  auto-analysis  point  it  out  to  me?    I  have  the 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  123 

courage  to  draw  extreme  conclusions,  and  do  not  hide 
the  truth  from  myself,  but  I  decidedly  negative  the  no- 
tion. Why  ?  Because  I  have  the  unshaken  conviction 
that  I  am  better  than  ray  actions.  The  cause  of  the  lat- 
ter is  partly  a  certain  incapacity  of  life,  partly  the  in- 
heritance of  my  race  and  the  disease  of  the  times  in 
which  I  live,  and  finally  that  over-analysis  which  does 
not  permit  me  to  follow  the  first,  simple  impulses  of  na- 
ture, but  criticises  until  it  reduces  the  soul  to  utter  impo- 
tence. When  a  child  I  used  to  amuse  myself  by  piling 
up  coin  upon  coin  until  the  column,  bending  under  its 
own  weight,  tumbled  down  into  one  chaotic  heap.  I  am 
doing  now  exactly  the  same  with  my  thoughts  and  in- 
tentions, until  they  collapse  and  roll  over  each  other  in  a 
disorderly  confusion.  For  this  very  reason  it  has  always 
been  easier  for  me  to  play  a  passive  part  than  an  active 
one.  It  appears  to  me  that  many  cultured  people  are  at- 
tacked by  the  same  disease.  Criticism  of  ourselves  and 
everything  else  is  corroding  our  active  power ;  we  have 
no  stable  basis,  no  point  of  issue,  no  faith  in  life.  There- 
in lies  the  reason  why  I  do  not  care  so  much  to  win 
Aniela  as  I  am  afraid  of  losing  her.  In  speaking  of  a 
disease  common'  to  our  time,  I  will  not  confine  myself 
exclusively  to  my  own  case.  That  somebody  takes  to 
his  bed  when  an  epidemic  disease  is  raging  is  a  very 
common  occurrence  ;  nowadays  criticism  of  everything 
is  the  epidemic  spreading  all  over  the  world.  The  re- 
sult is  that  various  roofs  that  sheltered  men  collapse 
over  their  heads.  Keligion,  the  very  name  of  which 
means  "  ties,"  is  getting  unloosened.  Faith,  even  in  those 
who  still  believe,  is  getting  restive.  Through  the  roof 
of  what  we  call  Fatherland  social  currents  begin  to  filter. 
There  remains  only  one  ideal  in  presence  of  which  the 
most  hardened  sceptic  raises  his  hat,  —  the  People.  But 
on  the  base  of  this  statue  mischievous  spirits  are  begin- 
ning already  to  scribble  more  or  less  ribald  jokes,  and, 
what  is  still  more  strange,  the  mist  of  unbelief  is  rising 
from  the  heads  of  those  who,  in  the  nature  of  things, 


124  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

ought  to  bow  down  reverently.  Finally  there  will  come 
a  gifted  sceptic,  a  second  Heine,  to  spit  and  trample  on 
the  idol,  as  in  his  time  did  Aristophanes ;  he  will  not, 
however,  trample  on  it  in  the  name  of  old  ideals,  but  in 
the  name  of  freedom  of  thought,  in  the  name  of  freedom 
of  doubt ;  and  what  will  happen  then  I  do  not  know. 
Most  likely  on  the  huge,  clean-wiped  slate  the  devil  will 
write  sonnets.  Can  anything  be  done  to  prevent  all  this  ? 
Finally,  what  does  it  matter  to  me  ?  To  attempt  anything 
is  not  my  business  ;  I  have  been  trained  too  carefully  as 
a  child  of  my  time.  But  if  all  that  is  thought,  that  is 
achieved  and  happening,  has  for  its  ultimate  aim  to  in- 
crease the  sum  of  general  happiness,  I  permit  myself  a 
personal  remark  as  to  that  happiness ;  by  which  I  do  not 
mean  material  comfort,  but  that  inward  spiritual  peace 
in  Avliich  I  as  well  as  anybody  else  may  be  wanting. 
Thus  my  grandfather  was  happier  than  my  father,  my 
father  happier  than  I,  and  as  to  my  son,  if  ever  I  have 
one,  he  will  simply  be  an  object  of  commiseration. 


Florence,  20  June. 
The  house  of  cards  has  tumbled  down.  I  received  a 
letter  from  my  aunt.  Aniela  is  engaged  to  Kromitzki, 
and  the  marriage  will  take  place  in  a  few  weeks.  She 
herself  has  fixed  such  a  short  date.  After  receiving  the 
news  I  took  a  railway  ticket,  with  the  intention  of 
going  straight  to  Ploszow,  conscious  all  the  time  that 
it  was  a  foolish  thing  to  do,  which  could  lead  to  nothing. 
But  the  impulse  was  upon  me,  and  carried  me  along ; 
when,  collecting  the  last  remnants  of  common-sense  and 
reflection,  I  stuck  fast  here. 

Florence,  22  June. 
Simultaneously  with  my  aunt's  letter,  I   received  a 
'•faire   part"  addressed  in  a  female  hand.      It  is  not 
Aniela's  handwriting,  or  her  mother's  j  neither  of  them 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  125 

would  have  done  it.  Most  likely  it  is  Pani  Sniatynska's 
malicious  device.  Upon  the  whole,  what  does  it  matter  ? 
I  got  a  blow  with  a  club  on  the  head,  and  feel  dizzy ;  it  has 
shaken  me  more  than  it  has  hurt.  I  do  not  know  how  it 
will  be  later  on;  they  say  one  does  not  feel  a  bullet  wound 
at  once.  But  I  have  not  sent  a  bullet  through  my  head, 
I  am  not  mad ;  I  look  at  the  Lung  Arno  ;  I  could  sit 
down  to  a  game  of  patience  if  I  knew  how  to  play ;  in 
fact,  I  am  quite  well.  It  is  the  old  story,  —  among 
sincere  friends  the  dogs  tore  the  hare  to  pieces.  My 
aunt  considered  it  her  Christian  duty  to  show  Aniela 
the  letter  I  had  written  from  Peli. 


Florence,  23  June. 

In  the  morning,  when  I  wake  up,  —  or  rather,  when 
opening  my  eyes,  —  I  am  obliged  to  repeat  to  myself 
that  Aniela  is  marrying  Ki-omitzki,  —  Aniela,  so  good, 
so  loving,  who  insisted  on  sitting  up  to  take  care  of 
me  when  I  returned  from  Warsaw  to  Ploszow ;  who 
looked  into  my  eyes,  hung  upon  every  word  that  came 
from  my  lips,  and  with  every  glance  told  me  she  was 
mine.  That  same  Aniela  will  not  only  be  Kromitzki's 
wife,  but  within  a  week  from  the  wedding  will  not  be 
able  to  conceive  how  she  could  ever  hesitate  in  her  choice 
between  such  a  man  as  Ploszowski  and  a  Jupiter  like 
Kromitzki.  Strange  things  happen  in  this  world,  —  so 
terrible  and  irrevocable  that  it  takes  away  the  desire  to 
live  out  the  mean  remnant  of  one's  existence.  Most 
likely  Pani  Celina  together  with  Pani  Sniatynska  make 
a  great  ado  about  Kromitzki,  and  praise  him  at  my  ex- 
pense. I  hope  they  will  leave  Aniela  in  peace.  It  is  my 
aunt's  doing ;  she  ought  not  to  have  allowed  it,  if  only 
for  Aniela's  sake,  as  she  cannot  possibly  be  happy  with 
him.  She  herself  says  Aniela  has  accepted  him  out  of 
despair. 

Here  is  that  long,  cursed  letter :  — 


126  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  last  news,  —  all  the  more  as 
that  first  letter  from  Peli  was  not  only  conclusive,  but 
also  very  cruel.  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  you  had 
not  only  no  affection  for  the  girl,  but  also  neither  friend- 
ship nor  compassion.  My  dear  Leon,  I  never  asked  nor 
advised  you  to  become  engaged  to  Aniela  at  once,  —  I 
only  wanted  you  to  write  a  few  kindly  words,  not  to  her 
directly,  but  in  a  letter  to  me.  And  believe  me,  it  would 
have  been  sufficient ;  for  she  loved  you  as  only  girls  like 
her  can  love.  Put  yourself  in  my  position,  —  what 
could  I  do  after  having  received  your  letter  ?  How 
could  I  conscientiously  allow  her  to  remain  in  her  illu- 
sion, and  at  the  same  time  in  that  anxiety  that  evidently 
undermined  her  health  ?  Chwastowski  always  sends  a 
special  messenger  for  papers  and  letters,  and  brings 
them  himself  when  he  comes  to  breakfast.  Aniela 
saw  there  was  a  letter  from  you,  because  the  poor 
child  was  always  on  the  lookout  for  Chwastowski,  and 
took  the  letters  from  him  under  pretext  that  she  wanted 
to  put  them  under  my  napkin ;  and  the  real  reason  was 
that  she  might  see  whether  there  was  a  letter  from  you. 
I  noticed  how  her  hands  trembled  when  she  poured  out 
the  tea.  Touched  by  a  sudden  foreboding,  I  hesitated 
whether  to  put  off  the  reading  of  your  letter  until  I  had 
gone  into  my  room ;  but  I  was  anxious  about  your 
health,  and  could  not  wait.  God  knows  what  it  cost  me 
not  to  show  what  I  felt,  especially  as  Aniela's  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  my  face.  But  I  got  a  firm  grip  of  my- 
self, and  even  managed  to  say :  '  Leon  is  still  sorrowing, 
but,  thank  God !  his  health  is  all  right,  and  he  sends  you 
kind  messages.'  Aniela  inquired,  as  it  were  in  her  usual 
voice,  '  Is  he  going  to  remain  long  in  Italy  ? '  I  saw 
how  much  the  question  meant  to  her,  and  had  not  the 
heart  to  undeceive  her  then,  —  especially  as  Chwastowski 
and  the  servants  were  there ;  so  I  said  merely :  '  No,  not 
very  long ;  I  believe  he  will  soon  come  to  see  ua.'  If 
you  had  seen  the  flame  that  shot  up  in  her  face,  the 
sudden  joy  that  kindled  her.  eyes,  and  the   effort  she 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  127 

made  not  to  burst  into  tears.  Poor  child !  I  feel  inclined 
to  cry  every  time  I  think  of  it.  What  I  went  through  in 
the  solitude  of  my  own  room,  you  cannot  imagine ;  but  you 
wrote  distinctly,  '  I  wish-  her  happiness  with  Kromitzki ; ' 
it  was  duty,  my  conscience  told  me,  to  open  her  eyes. 
There  was  no  need  to  send  for  her,  —  she  came  herself. 
I  said  to  her,  '  Aniela,  dear,  you  are  a  good  girl,  and  a 
girl  that  submits  to  God's  will.  We  must  be  open  with 
each  other.  I  have  seen  the  affection  that  was  springing 
up  between  you  and  Leon.  It  was  my  dearest  wish  you 
might  come  to  love  each  other;  but  evidently  the  Lord 
willed  it  otherwise.  If  you  have  still  any  illusions,  you 
must  try  to  get  rid  of  them.'  I  took  her  into  my  arms ; 
for  she  had  grown  deadly  white,  and  I  was  afraid 
she  might  faint.  But  she  did  not  lose  consciousness, 
but  hid  her  head  on  my  knees  and  said  over  and  over 
again :  '  What  message  did  he  send  me  ? '  I  did  not 
want  to  tell  her,  but  then  it  struck  me  it  might  be  better 
for  her  if  she  knew  the  whole  truth  ;  and  I  told  her  you 
wished  her  happiness  with  Kromitzki.  She  rose,  and  after 
a  moment  said,  in  a  quite  changed  voice :  '  Thank  him  for 
me,  aunty ! '  and  then  left  the  room.  I  am  afraid  you 
will  not  thank  me  for  repeating  to  her  your  very  words, 
without  disguising  them  under  any  kind  expressions ; 
but  since  you  do  not  want  Aniela,  the  more  plainly  she 
is  told  about  it  the  better.  Convinced  that  you  treated 
her  badly,  she  may  forget  you  all  the  sooner.  Besides, 
if  it  give  you  pain,  remember  how  much  pain  and 
anxiety  you  have  caused  us,  —  especially  Aniela.  Yet 
she  has  more  control  over  herself  than  I  even  expected. 
Her  eyes  were  quite  dry  the  whole  day,  and  she  gave  no 
sign  of  inward  trouble ;  she  is  anxious  to  spare  her 
mother,  about  whose  health  she  is  much  concerned ;  she 
only  clung  more  to  her  and  to  me,  —  which  moved  me 
so  deeply  that  it  made  my  chin  tremble.  Pan  Sniatynski, 
who  came  to  see  us  the  same  day,  did  not  notice  any- 
thing unusual  in  Aniela.  Knowing  he  is  in  your  confi- 
dence, I  told  him  all  about  it ;  and  he  was  dreadfully 


128  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

shocked,  and  got  into  such  a  rage  with  you  that  it  made 
me  quite  angry  with  him.  I  need  not  repeat  what  he 
said,  —  you  know  his  ways.  You,  who  do  not  love 
Aniela,  cannot  understand  how  happy  you  might  have 
been  with  her ;  but  you  have  done  wrong,  Leon,  in 
making  her  believe  you  loved  her.  Not  only  she,  — 
we  all  thought  the  same  ;  and  that  is  where  the  sting 
lies.  Only  God  knows  how  much  she  suffered ;  and 
it  was  this  that  made  her  accept  Kromitzki,  —  it  was 
done  out  of  despair.  She  must  have  had  a  long  talk  with 
her  mother,  and  then  it  was  decided.  When  Kromitzki 
arrived  the  day  after,  she  treated  him  differently ;  and 
a  week  later  they  were  engaged.  Pan  Sniatynski  heard 
about  it  only  a  few  days  ago,  and  he  was  tearing  his 
hair ;  and  as  to  my  own  feelings,  I  will  not  even  try  to 
put  them  into  words. 

"  I  was  more  angry  with  you  than  I  have  ever  been  in 
my  life  with  anybody,  and  only  your  second  letter  has 
pacified  me  a  little,  though  it  convinced  me  at  the  same 
time  of  the  futility  of  my  dreams.  I  confess  that  after 
the  first  letter,  and  before  Kromitzki  had  finally  pro- 
posed, I  still  thought :  '  Perhaps  God  will  be  good  to  us 
and  change  his  heart ;  maybe  he  has  written  thus  in  a  fit 
of  anger  ! '  but  when  afterwards  you  sent  kind  messages 
to  Aniela  without  denying  or  contradicting  what  you 
had  written  in  the  first  letter,  I  saw  it  was  of  no  use  de- 
ceiving myself  any  longer.  Aniela's  wedding  is  to  take 
place  on  the  25th  of  July,  and  I  will  tell  you  why  they 
have  fixed  upon  such  a  short  date.  Celina  is  really  very 
ill,  thinks  she  will  soon  die,  and  is  afraid  her  death  might 
delay  the  marriage,  and  thus  leave  Aniela  without  a  pro- 
tector. Kromitzki  is  in  a  hurry  because  he  has  his  busi- 
ness to  attend  to  in  the  East ;  lastly,  Aniela  wishes  to 
drain  the  cup  with  as  little  delay  as  possible.  Ah  !  Leon, 
my  boy,  why  should  all  this  have  happened,  and  why  is 
that  poor  child  made  unhappy  ? 

"  I  would  never  have  allowed  her  to  marry  Kromitzki, 
but  how  could  I  say  a  word  against  it,  feeling  as  I  do 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  129 

that  I  am  guilty  in  regard  to  Aniela.  I  was  over-anxious 
to  see  you  settled  in  life,  and  never  considered  what 
might  be  the  consequences  for  her.  It  is  my  fault,  and 
consequently  I  suffer  not  a  little  ;  I  pray  every  day  for 
the  poor  child. 

"  After  the  ceremony  they  will  immediately  leave  for 
Volhynia.  Celina  remains  with  me  for  the  present ;  she 
was  thinking  of  Odessa,  but  I  will  not  let  her  go  on  any 
account.  You  know,  my  dear  boy,  how  happy  I  am 
when  you  -are  with  me,  but  do  not  come  now  to  Ploszow 
for  Aniela's  sake ;  if  you  wish  to  see  me  I  will  come 
to  you,  but  we  must  spare  Aniela  now  as  much  as  we 
can." 

Why  deceive  myself  any  longer  ?  When  I  read  that 
letter  I  felt  as  if  I  could  ram  my  head  against  the  wall, 
—  not  in  rage  or  jealousy  but  in  utter  anguish. 


23  June. 

I  cannot  possibly  fold  my  hands  and  let  things  take 
their  own  way.  This  marriage  must  not  take  place  ;  it 
would  be  too  monstrous.  To-day,  Thursday,  I  have  sent 
a  telegram  to  Sniatynski,  entreating  him  by  all  the 
powers  to  be  at  Cracow  by  Sunday.  I  shall  leave  here 
to-morrow.  I  asked  him  not  to  mention  the  telegram 
to  anybody.  I  will  see  him,  talk  to  him,  and  beg  him 
to  see  Aniela  in  my  name.  I  count  much  upon  his  in- 
fluence. Aniela  respects  and  likes  him  very  much.  I 
did  not  apply  to  my  aunt,  because  we  men  understand 
one  another  better.  Sniatynski,  as  a  psychologist,  can 
make  allowance  for  the  phase  of  life  I  have  been  pass- 
ing through  lately.  I  can  tell  him,  too,  about  Laura ;  if 
I  were  to  mention  such  a  thing  to  my  aunt  she  would 
cross  herself  as  if  in  presence  of  the  Evil  One.  I 
first  wanted  to  write  to  Aniela;  but  a  letter  from  me 
would  attract  attention  and  cause  a  general  confusion. 
I  know  Aniela's  straight-forwardness;  she  would  show 

» 


130  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

the  letter  to  her  mother,  who  does  not  like  me  and  might 
twist  the  words  so  as  to  suit  her  own  schemes,  and  Kro- 
mitzki  would  help  her.  Sniatynski  must  see  Aniela 
alone.  His  wife  will  help  him.  I  hope  he  will  under- 
take the  mission,  though  I  am  fully  aware  what  a  deli- 
cate task  it  is.  I  have  not  slept  for  several  nights. 
When  I  shut  my  eyes  I  see  Aniela  before  me,  —  her 
face,  her  eyes,  her  smile,  —  I  even  hear  her  voice.  I 
cannot  go  on  like  this. 


Cracow,  26  June. 

Sniatynski  has  arrived.  He  has  promised  to  do  it, — 
good  fellow,  God  bless  him  for  it !  It  is  four  o'clock  at 
night,  but  I  cannot  sleep,  so  I  sit  down  to  write,  for  I  can 
do  nothing  else.  We  talked  together,  discussed  and 
quarrelled  till  three  o'clock.  Now  he  is  sleeping  in  the 
adjoining  room.  I  could  not  at  first  persuade  him  to 
undertake  the  mission.  "My  dear  fellow,"  he  said, 
"  what  right  have  I,  a  stranger,  to  meddle  in  your 
family  affairs,  and  such  a  delicate  affair  too  ?  Pana 
Aniela  could  reduce  me  to  silence  at  once  by  saying, 
*  What  business  is  it  of  yours  ? ' " 

I  assured  him  that  Aniela  would  do  nothing  of  that 
kind.  I  acknowledged  he  was  right  in  the  main,  but  this 
was  an  exceptional  case,  and  general  rules  could  not 
apply  to  it.  My  argument  that  it  was  for  Aniela's  sake 
seemed  to  convince  him  most ;  but  I  think  he  is  doing  it 
a  little  for  my  sake  too ;  he  seemed  sorry,  and  said  I 
looked  very  ill.  Besides,  he  cannot  bear  Kromitzki. 
Sniatynski  maintains  that  money  speculations  is  the 
same  as  taking  money  out  of  somebody  else's  pocket 
and  put  it  in  one's  own.  He  takes  many  things  amiss 
in  Kromitzki,  and  says  of  him :  "  If  he  had  a  higher  or 
honester  aim  in  view  I  could  forgive  him ;  but  he  tries 
to  gain  money  for  the  mere  sake  of  having  it."  Aniela's 
marriage  is  almost  as  repugnant  to  him  as  to  me,  and 
his  opinion  is  that  she  is  preparing  a  wretched  life  for 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  131 

herself.  At  my  entreaties  lie  promised  to  take  the  first 
train  in  the  morning. 

The  day  after  both  he  and  his  wife  will  go  to  Ploszow, 
and  if  they  do  not  find  a  chance  of  seeing  Aniela  alone, 
carry  her  off  to  Warsaw  for  a  few  hours.  He  is  going 
to  tell  Aniela  how  much  I  suffer,  and  that  my  life  is  in 
her  hands.  He  is  able  to  do  it.  He  will  speak  to  her 
with  a  certain  authority,  gently  and  persuasively ;  he 
will  convince  her  that  a  woman,  however  wounded  her 
heart  may  be,  has  no  right  to  marry  the  man  she  does 
not  love ;  that  doing  so  she  acts  dishonestly,  and  is  not 
true  to  herself ;  that,  likewise,  she  has  no  right  to  throw 
over  the  man  she  loves,  because  in  an  access  of  jealousy 
he  wrote  a  letter  he  repents  of  now  from  the  veriest 
depths  of  his  heart. 

Towards  the  end  Sniatynski  said  to  me-. — 

"  I  will  do  what  you  wish  under  one  condition :  you 
must  pledge  me  your  word  that  in  case  my  mission  fails, 
you  will  not  go  to  Ploszow  and  make  a  scene  which  the 
ladies  might  pay  for  with  their  health ;  you  may  write 
to  Aniela  if  you  wish,  but  you  will  not  go,  unless  she 
gives  you  permission." 

What  does  he  take  me  for  ?  I  promised  unreservedly, 
but  his  words  increased  my  anxiety.  But  I  count  upon 
Aniela's  heart  and  Sniatynski's  eloquence.  Ah  !  how  he 
can  speak !  He  did  not  encourage  my  hopes,  but  I  can 
see  he  is  hopeful  himself.  As  a  last  resource  he  prom- 
ised to  get  Aniela  to  delay  the  marriage  for  six  months. 
In  that  case  the  victory  is  ours,  for  Kromitzki  will  draw 
back.  I  shall  remember  this  day  for  a  long  time.  Snia- 
tynski, when  in  presence  of  a  real  sorrow,  can  be  as  gentle 
as  a  woman,  and  he  was  anxious  to  spare  my  feelings. 
Yet  it  costs  me  something  to  lay  bare  even  before  such 
a  friend  my  madness,  —  weak  points,  —  and  put  into 
his  hands  my  whole  fate,  instead  of  fighting  it  out  by 
myself.  But  what  does  it  all  matter  when  Aniela  is  in 
question  ? 


132  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


27  June. 

Sniatynski  left  early.  I  went  with  him  to  the  station. 
On  the  way  I  kept  repeating  various  instructions  as  if 
he  were  an  idiot.  He  said  teasingly  that  if  he  were  suc- 
cessful in  his  mission,  I  would  begin  again  philosophiz- 
ing. I  felt  a  desire  to  shake  him.  He  went  away  with 
such  a  cheerful  face  I  could  swear  he  feels  sure  not  to 
fail. 

After  his  departure  I  went  straight  to  St.  Mary's 
Church,  and  I,  the  sceptic,  the  philosopher,  I  who  do  not 
know,  do  not  know,  do  not  know,  had  a  mass  offered  in 
the  names  of  Leon  and  Aniela.  I  not  only  remained 
during  mass  in  church,  but  put  down  here,  black  on  white : 
Perdition  upon  all  my  scepticism,  philosophy,  and  my 
"  I  do  not  know ! " 


28  June. 

It  is  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Sniatynski  and  his 
wife  are  starting  for  Ploszow.  Aniela  ought  to  agree 
at  least  to  a  postponement  of  her  marriage.  Various 
thoughts  cross  my  mind.  That  Kromitzki  is  greedy  for 
money  there  is  not  the  slightest  doubt ;  then  why  did  he 
not  fix  his  attentions  on  a  richer  girl  ?  Aniela's  estate 
is  large,  but  encumbered  with  debts,  —  perhaps  it  was 
the  landed  property  he  wan*;ed,  so  as  to  secure  himself  a 
position  and  a  citizenship  Yet  Kromitzki,  with  his 
reputation  as  a  rich  man,  could  have  got  all  this,  and 
money  with  his  wife  besides.  Evidently  Aniela  at- 
tracted him  personally  and  for  some  time.  It  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at  that  Aniela  should  captivate  any  one. 

And  to  think  that  she  was  waiting,  as  one  waits  for 
one's  happiness  or  salvation,  for  one  word  from  me ! 
My  aunt  says  it,  that  she  was  lying  in  wait  for  Chwas- 
towski,  to  take  the  letters  from  him.  A  terrible  fear 
seizes  me  that  all  this  may  not  be  forgiven,  and  that  I 
am  doomed  and  all  those  that  are  like  me. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  133 

10  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
I  had  a  terrible  neuralgia  in  the  head ;  it  has  passed 
now,  but  what  with  the  pain,  the  sleeplessness,  and 
anxiety,  I  feel  as  if  I  were  hypnotized.  My  mind,  open 
and  excited  on  one  point,  concentrated  upon  one  thought, 
sees  more  clearly  than  it  has  ever  done  before  how  the 
affair  will  end.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  at  Ploszow  ;  I 
listen  to  what  Aniela  says  to  Sniatynski,  and  I  cannot  un- 
derstand how  I  could  buoy  myself  up  with  false  hopes. 
She  has  no  pity  on  me.  These  are  not  mere  suppositions, 
they  are  a  dead  certainty.  Truly,  something  strange  is 
going  on  with  me.  A  terrible  gravity  has  suddenly  fallen 
upon  me,  as  if  up  to  this  moment  I  had  only  been  a 
child,  —  and  such  a  terrible  sadness.  Am  I  going  to  be 
ill  ?  I  made  Sniatynski  promise  to  send  me  a  telegram. 
No  message  has  as  yet  arrived,  though,  properly  speak- 
ing, it  will  not  tell  me  anything  new. 


29  June. 

The  telegram  has  come.  It  contains  these  words  :  "  It 
is  of  no  use,  —  pull  yourself  together  and  travel."  Yes, 
I  will  do  it.    Oh,  Aniela ! 


Paris,  2  April. 
It  is  some  ten  months  since  I  put  down  anything  in 
my  journal ;  it  had  become  such  a  familiar  friend  that  I 
missed  it.  But  I  said  to  myself  :  what  is  the  use  of  it  ? 
If  I  put  down  on  paper  thoughts  worthy  of  a  Pascal ; 
deeper  than  the  ocean  depth ;  loftier  than  the  Alps,  —  it 
would  not  change  the  simple  fact  that  she  is  married. 
With  that  fact  staring  at  me,  my  hands  dropped  power- 
less. Sometimes  life  concentrates  itself  in  one  object, 
not  necessarily  an  important  one ;  but  if  that  fails  us 
we  seem  at  a  loss  what  to  do  with  ourselves.  It  is 
strange,  —  almost  laughable,  —  but  for  a  long  time  I  re- 


134  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

mained  in  a  state  of  mind  in  which  the  most  commonplace 
functions  of  life  seemed  irksome  and  useless,  and  it  took 
me  some  time  to  remember  that  I  used  to  go  to  clubs  and 
theatres,  shaved,  dressed,  and  dined  before  I  knew  her. 
The  first  months  I  travelled  a  great  deal,  straying  as  far  as 
Iceland.  The  sight  of  Swedish  lakes,  Norwegian  fiords, 
and  Icelandic  geysers  conveyed  to  me  no  direct  impres- 
sions ;  I  only  tried  to  imagine  what  Aniela  would  have 
felt  or  said  to  such  a  view,  —  in  short,  I  saw  with  her 
eyes,  thought  her  thoughts,  and  felt  with  her  heart. 
And  when  presently  I  remembered  that  she  was  Aniela 
no  longer,  but  Pani  Kromitzka,  I  went  straight  to  the 
nearest  railway  station  or  shij)  to  go  somewhere  else,  as 
what  I  looked  upon  had  ceased  to  interest  me.  It  did  not 
matter  to  me  in  the  least  that  I  played  a  part  in  one  of 
the  so  commonly  ridiculed  dramas  where  thousands  of 
fools  have  played  the  same  parts  before.  And  death  is 
a  drama ;  and  those  who  are  entering  its  gates  think  the 
world  is  coming  to  an  end  ;  and  so  it  is,  —  for  them. 

I  do  not  know,  and  will  not  enter  into  it  now,  whether 
my  feeling  the  first  few  months  was  one  of  fathomless 
despair.  Everything  is  relative.  I  know  only  that  my 
whole  being  was  absorbed  by  one  woman,  and  I  under- 
stood for  the  first  time  the  void  created  by  the  death  of 
a  dearly  loved  being. 

But  gradually  the  habit  —  not  the  zest  —  of  life  re- 
covered its  vital  power.  This  is  a  common  enough  fact. 
I  have  known  people,  inwardly  intensely  sad,  without  a 
grain  of  cheerfulness  in  their  souls,  yet  keep  up  an  ap- 
pearance of  cheerfulness  because  they  had  once  been 
cheerful,  and  the  habit  clung  to  them.  And  time  dulls 
the  pain,  and  I  found  an  antidote  to  the  poison.  I  read 
once,  in  a  book  of  travels  by  Farini,  that  the  Caffres, 
when  stung  by  a  scorpion,  cure  themselves  by  letting 
the  scorpion  sting  them  in  the  same  place.  Such  a  scor- 
pion, —  such  an  antidote,  —  was  for  me,  and  is  gener- 
ally for  most  people,  the  word,  "  It  is  done ;  there  is  no 
help  for  it." 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  135 

It  is  done,  therefore  I  suffer ;  it  is  done,  and  I  feel  re- 
lieved. There  is  an  anodyne  in  the  consciousness  that  it 
cannot  be  helped.  It  reminds  me  of  the  Indian  carried 
away  by  the  Niagara  :  he  struggled  at  first  with  all  his 
strength  against  the  current ;  but  seeing  the  hopeless- 
ness of  his  efforts,  threw  away  his  oar,  laid  himself  down 
in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  and  began  to  sing.  I  am 
ready  to  sing  now.  The  Niagara  Falls  have  that  ad- 
vantage —  they  crush  the  life  out  of  a  man ;  there  are 
others  that  throw  him  on  a  lonely  barren  shore  without 
water.     This  has  happened  to  me. 

The  evil  genius  bent  upon  wrecking  my  life  had  not 
taken  in  account  one  thing :  a  man  crushed  and  utterly 
wretched  cares  less  for  himself  than  a  happy  one.  In 
presence  of  that  indifference  fate  becomes  more  or  less 
powerless.  I  was  and  am  still  in  that  frame  of  mind 
that,  if  angry  Fortuna  came  to  me  in  person,  and  said  : 
*'  Go  to  perdition,"  I  should  reply  calmly :  "  Be  it  so,"  — 
not  out  of  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  Aniela,  but  from  mere 
indifference  to  everything  within  or  without  me. 

This  is  a  special  kind  of  armor  which  not  only  protects 
the  man  himself,  but  also  makes  him  dangerous  to  others. 
It  is  clear  that  he  who  does  not  spare  himself  will  not 
spare  others.  Even  God's  commandment  does  not  say  ; 
"Love  thy  neighbor  more  than  thyself."  It  does  not 
follow  that  I  mean  to  cut  somebody's  throat  one  of  these 
days.  What  I  said  has  merely  a  theoretical  bearing 
upon  life  in  general ;  nobody  will  be  any  the  worse  for 
it;  for  if  indifference  diminishes  altruism,  it  also  lessens 
egoism.  If  I  were  to  sleep  with  my  neighbor  under  the 
same  cloak,  I  should  not  surrender  it  altogether ;  neither 
should  I  take  it  all  to  myself. 

Dangerous,  and  even  very  dangerous,  such  a  man  as  I 
am  may  become  when  at  length  he  is  aroused  from  his 
lethargy,  drawn  forth  from  the  seclusion  of  his  egotism, 
and  forced  into  definite  action.  He  then  acquires  the 
precision  of  motion,  and  also  the  merciless  power,  of 
an  engine.     I  have  gained  that  mechanical  power.     For 


136  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

some  time  I  have  noticed  that  I  impress  others  by  my 
way  of  thinking  and  my  will  more  strongly  than  formerly, 
though  I  have  not  sought  it  in  the  least.  The  everlasting 
source  of  weakness  is  love  of  self,  vanity,  and  coquetry 
in  regard  to  others.  Almost  unconsciously  everybody 
tries  to  please,  to  gain  sympathy;  and  towards  that  end 
often  sacrifices  his  own  opinions  and  convictions.  At 
present  this  coquetry,  if  not  altogether  gone,  is  greatly 
diminished ;  and  the  indifference  as  to  whether  I  please 
or  not  gives  me  a  kind  of  superiority  over  others.  I  have 
noticed  that  during  my  travels,  and  especially  now  at  Paris. 
There  are  many  here  who  at  one  time  had  an  ascendency 
over  me ;  now  I  have  the  ascendency,  for  the  very  reason 
that  I  care  less  for  it. 

In  a  general  way  I  look  upon  myself  as  a  man  who 
could  be  energetic  if  he  wished  to  exert  himself;  but  the 
will  acts  in  proportion  to  the  passions,  and  mine  are  in 
the  passive  state. 

As  the  habit  of  giving  an  account  to  myself  for  my 
thoughts  and  actions  still  remains  with  me,  I  explain  in 
this  way  that  in  certain  conditions  of  life  we  may  as 
strongly  desire  not  to  live,  as  in  others  we  should  wish 
the  contrary.  Most  likely  my  indifference  springs  from 
this  dislike  of  life.  It  is  this  w^hich  renders  it  different 
from  the  apathy  of  such  men  as  Davis. 

It  is  quite  certain  that  I  have  grown  more  independent 
than  formerly,  and  might  say  with  Hamlet  that  there  is 
something  dangerous  in  me.  Fortunately  nobody  crosses 
my  path.  Everybody  is  as  supremely  indifferent  and 
cool  towards  me  as  I  am  in  regard  to  them.  Only  my 
aunt  in  far-away  Ploszow  loves  me  as  of  old  ;  but  I  sup- 
pose even  her  love  has  lost  its  active  character,  and  there 
will  be  no  more  match-making  in  my  behalf. 


3  April. 

Alas  !  that  indifference  I  compared  to  pure  water  with- 
out taste  or  color  is  only  apparently  colorless.     Looking 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  137 

more  closely  I  perceive  tiny  bubbles  which  dim  its  purity. 
They  are  my  idiosyncrasies.  Everything  else  has  left 
me  and  they  remained.  I  do  not  love  anybody,  have  no 
active  hatred  towards  any  one,  but  am  full  of  aversions  in 
regard  to  various  people.  One  of  these  is  Kromitzki.  I 
do  not  hate  him  because  he  has  taken  Aniela  from  me ; 
I  dislike  him  for  his  long,  flat  feet,  his  thick  knees,  lank 
figure,  and  that  voice  like  a  coffee-mill.  He  was  always  re- 
pulsive to  me,  and  I  mention  the  fact  now  because  that 
aversion  has  such  a  strange  vitality  in  me.  I  cannot 
help  thinking  of  people  who  jar  upon  my  nerves.  If 
only  Kromitzki  and  Pani  Celina  came  under  that  cate- 
gory, I  might  think  those  antipathies  were  hatred  in 
the  disguise  of  aversion.  But  it  is  not  so.  There  are 
others  who  have  roused  at  some  time  or  other  an  aversion 
in  me  that  clings  quite  as  perversely  to  my  memory.  As 
I  cannot  ascribe  it  to  the  state  of  my  health,  —  I  never  felt 
better  in  my  life,  —  I  explain  it  in  this  way  :  The  world 
has  robbed  me  of  my  love,  time  has  dried  up  hatred,  and 
as  the  living  individual  must  feel  something,  I  live  upon 
what  remains  to  me.  I  must  also  say  that  he  who  feels 
and  lives  thus  does  not  get  a  surfeit  of  happiness. 

My  former  sympathies  have  cooled  down  very  con- 
siderably. To  Sniatynski  I  have  taken  a  dislike  which 
no  reasoning  on  my  part  can  overcome.  Sniatynski  has 
many  grand  qualities  and  is  pleasantly  conscious  of  them, 
which  gives  him,  as  painters  express  it,  a  certain  man- 
nerism. I  suppose  it  is  exceedingly  rare  that  a  man  who 
sees  that  his  individual  characteristics  impress  people 
favorably  does  not  fall  in  love  with  his  own  type,  and 
end  by  exaggerating  it.  Sniatynski  consequently  has 
grown  artificial,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  pose  sacrifices 
his  innate  delicacy ;  as  in  case  of  the  abrupt  telegram 
he  sent  to  Cracow,  after  his  mission  with  Aniela  had 
failed,  —  his  advice  to  travel,  which  I  should  have  done 
without  it,  —  and  I  received  another  letter  from  him  at 
Christiania  soon  after  Aniela's  wedding,  written  in  a 
friendly  spirit,  but  very  abrupt  and  artificial.     I  might 


138  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

give  its  substance  as  follows :  "  Panna  Aniela  is  now 
Pani  Kromitzka,  —  the  thing  is  done  ;  I  am  sorry  for 
you ;  do  not  think  the  bottom  is  falling  out  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  there  are  other  things  in  the  world  of  more  im- 
portance, the  deuce  take  it.  Norway  must  be  splendid 
just  now.  Come  back  soon  and  set  to  work.  Good-by," 
and  so  forth.  I  do  not  repeat  it  word  for  word,  but  such 
was  the  gist  of  the  letter.  It  impressed  me  unpleasantly, 
first  because  I  had  not  asked  Sniatynski  to  lend  me  his 
yard-measure  to  measure  my  sorrow  with ;  secondly,  I  had 
thought  him  a  sensible  man,  and  supposed  he  understood 
that  his  "  more  important  things "  are  merely  empty 
words  unless  they  imply  feelings  and  inclinations  that 
existed  before.  I  wanted  to  write  to  him  there  and  then 
and  ask  him  to  release  me  from  his  spiritual  tutelage, 
but  thinking  better  of  it  did  not  answer  at  all,  —  I 
fancy  that  is  the  easiest  way  of  breaking  off  a  corres- 
pondence. Entering  more  minutely  into  the  matter,  I 
find  that  neither  his  telegram  nor  his  letter  have  caused 
my  dislike.  Properly  speaking,  I  cannot  forgive  him  that 
for  which  I  ought  to  feel  grateful, —  his  mediation  between 
me  and  Aniela.  I  myself  implored  him  to  undertake  it, 
but  exactly  because  I  implored  him,  entrusted  him  with 
my  fate,  confessed  to  him  my  weaknesses,  and  made  him 
in  a  way  my  protector,  and  because  the  humiliation  and 
sorrow  which  overwhelmed  me  passed  through  his  hands, 
—  this,  perhaps,  explains  my  dislike  towards  him.  I  felt 
angry  with  myself,  and  angry  with  Sniatynski  as  having  a 
part  in  it.  It  is  unjust,  I  know,  but  I  cannot  help  it,  and 
my  friendship  for  him  has  burned  out  like  a  candle. 

Besides,  I  have  never  been  quick  in  forming  ties  of 
friendship.  With  Sniatynski  my  relations  were  closer 
than  with  anybody  else,  perhaps  because  we  lived  each  of 
us  in  a  different  part  of  Europe.  I  had  no  other  friends. 
I  belong  in  general  to  the  class  of  persons  called  singles. 
I  remember  there  was  a  time  when  I  considered  this  a 
sign  of  strength.  In  the  animal  world,  for  instance,  the 
weak  ones  mostly  cling  together,  and  those  whom  nature 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  139 

has  endowed  with  powerful  claws  and  teeth  go  single, 
because  they  suffice  unto  themselves.  This  principle 
can  be  applied  to  human  beings  only  in  exceptional  cases. 
Incapacity  for  friendship  proves  mostly  dryness  of  heart, 
not  strength  of  character.  As  to  myself,  the  cause  of  it 
was  a  certain  shyness  and  sensitiveness.  My  heart  is 
like  that  plant  which  closes  its  leaves  at  the  slightest 
touch.  That  I  never  formed  ties  of  friendship  with  a 
woman  is  a  different  thing  altogether.  I  had  a  desire  for 
friendship  in  regard  to  those  from  whom  I  expected 
more,  I  feigned  it  sometimes,  as  the  fox  makes  believe 
to  be  dead  in  order  to  secure  the  rooks.  It  does  not  fol- 
low that  I  disbelieve  in  friendship  between  man  and  wo- 
man. I  am  not  a  fool  who  measures  the  world  according 
to  his  own  standard,  or  a  churl  who  is  for  ever  suspect- 
ing evil ;  besides,  various  observations  have  proved  to  me 
that  such  a  friendship  is  quite  possible.  As  there  exists 
the  relation  of  brother  and  sister,  the  same  feeling  may 
exist  between  two  persons  who  feel  as  brother  and  sister 
towards  each  other.  Moreover,  the  capacity  for  that  kind 
of  friendship  belongs  to  the  choicer  spirits  who  have  a 
natural  inclination  for  Platonic  feasts,  such  as  poets,  ar- 
tists, philosophers,  and  generally,  people  who  cannot  be 
measured  by  the  common  standard.  If  this  be  a  proof 
that  I  was  not  made  of  the  stuff  artists,  poets,  and  great 
men  are  made  of, — the  worse  for  me.  Most  likely  it 
is  so,  since  I  am  nothing  but  Leon  Ploszowski.  There 
was  a  time  when  I  felt  that  if  Aniela  had  become  my 
wife,  she  would  not  only  have  been  my  love,  but  also  my 
dearest  friend.  But  I  prefer  not  to  think  of  it.  Ghosts 
of  this  kind  visit  me  far  too  often,  and  I  shall  never 
have  any  peace  until  I  banish  them  altogether. 


4  April. 

I  meet  Mrs.  Davis  here  pretty  often,  and  call  upon  her 
at  her  house.  And  nothing  else  !  There  is  some  dislike, 
a  little  contempt  under  a  thick  layer  of  ashes,  and  for 


140  WITnOUT  DOGMA. 

the  rest,  tlie  usual  social  intercourse.  She  is  still  too 
beautiful  to  be  classified  among  my  idiosyncrasies.  I 
cannot  love  lier,  and  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  hate  her. 
She  understood  that  at  once,  and  adapted  herself  to  cir- 
cumstances. All  the  same  she  cannot  always  conceal  her 
irritation  at  my  self-possession  and  cool  independence ; 
but  for  that  very  reason  shows  me  greater  considera- 
tion. It  is  very  strange,  that  easiness  with  which  women 
from  closest  relations  pass  on  to  mere  acquaintanceship. 
Laura  and  I  treat  each  other  as  if  there  had  never  been 
anything  between  us,  —  not  only  before  people,  but  even 
when  we  are  alone  together.  It  does  not  seem  to  cost 
her  the  slightest  effort ;  she  is  polite,  cool,  and  self-pos- 
sessed, affable  in  her  way,  and  her  manners  influence  me 
to  such  a  degree  that  I  should  never  dream  of  calling  her 
by  her  Christian  name. 

The  Neapolitan  cousin,  Maleschi,  used  to  roll  his  eyes 
so  ferociously  at  me  that  I  almost  considered  it  my  duty 
to  ask  him  not  to  injure  his  optics ;  he  has  now  calmed 
down,  seeing  how  very  distant  our  relations  to  each  other 
are,  and  is  very  friendly  towards  me.  He  has  already 
fought  a  duel  about  Laura,  and  in  spite  of  the  reputation 
of  coward  he  had  in  Italy,  showed  a  deal  of  pluck.  Poor 
Davis  has  passed  to  Nirvana  some  months  ago,  and  I  sup- 
pose after  a  decent  interval  of  widowhood,  Laura  will 
marry  Maleschi.  They  will  make  a  splendid  couple.  The 
Italian  has  the  torso  and  head  of  an  Antinous  ;  in  addi- 
tion to  that,  a  complexion  like  pale  gold,  raven  black  hair, 
and  eyes  as  blue  as  the  Mediteranean.  It  may  be  that 
Laura  loves  him,  but  for  some  reason  known  only  to 
herself,  she  bullies  him  a  great  deal.  Several  times  in 
my  presence  she  treated  him  so  uncivilly  that  I  was  sur- 
prised, as  I  had  thought  her  aesthetic  nature  incapable 
of  such  an  exhibition  of  temper.  Aspasia  and  Xantippe 
in  one. 

I  have  often  noticed  that  women,  merely  beautiful, 
without  striking  qualities  of  the  soul,  who  are  looked  upon 
as  starS;  are  something  more  than  stars ;  they  are  a  whole 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  141 

constellation,  two  in  fact,  —  a  Great  Bear  to  their  sur- 
roundings, a  Cross  to  their  husbands.  Laura  was  a  Cross 
to  poor  Davis,  and  is  now  a  Bear  in  regard  to  Maleschi. 
She  would  treat  me  a  little  in  that  way,  too,  if  it  were 
not  that  she  is  not  familiar  with  the  ways  of  Parisian 
society,  and  considers  it  safer  to  have  nie  for  an  ally  than 
an  enemy.  It  is  very  strange,  but  she  does  not  create 
here  the  same  sensation  as  in  Italy,  or  on  the  Mediter- 
anean.  She  is  simply  too  classical,  too  beautiful  for  Paris- 
ians, whose  taste  is  to  a  certain  degree  morbid,  as  appears 
in  their  literature  and  art ;  and  characteristic  ugliness 
more  strongly  excites  their  blunted  nerves  than  simple 
beauty.  It  is  a  noted  fact  that  the  most  celebrated  stars 
of  the  demirmo7ide  are  rather  ugly  than  beautiful.  In 
regard  to  Laura,  there  is  another  reason  for  her  non-suc- 
cess with  the  Parisians.  Her  intelligence,  though  very 
uncommon,  is  upon  too  straight  lines,  wanting  in  that 
kind  of  dash  so  appreciated  here.  There  are  thinkers, 
and  deep  thinkers,  too,  in  Paris,  but  in  society  those 
mostly  win  a  reputation  whose  minds  are  nimble  enough 
to  cling  to  any  subject,  as  a  monkey  to  a  branch  by  his 
tail  or  feet,  turning  head  over  heel.  The  more  these 
jumps  are  sudden  and  unexpected,  the  surer  the  success. 
Laura  understands  this,  and  at  the  same  time  is  con- 
scious that  to  do  this  would  be  as  easy  for  her  as  to  dance 
on  a  rope.  She  considers  me  an  adept  in  these  kinds  of 
gymnastics,  and  consequently  wants  me. 

To  increase  the  attraction  of  her  salon,  she  has  made 
it  into  a  temple  of  music.  She  herself  sings  like  a  si- 
ren, and  thereby  attracts  many  people.  I  meet  there 
often  a  pianistę,  Clara  Hilst,  a  young,  good-looking  Ger- 
man girl,  very  tall  of  figure,  whom  one  of  the  painters 
here  describes  thus :  "  C'est  beau,  mais  c'est  deux  fois 
grandeur  naturelle."  In  spite  of  her  German  origin,  she 
has  met  with  a  considerable  success.  As  to  myself,  I 
evidently  belong  to  the  old  school,  for  I  do  not  under- 
stand the  music  of  the  present,  which  consists  in  a  great 
deal  of  noise  and  confusion.     Listening  the  last  time  to 


142  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Miss  Hilst's  playing  at  Laura's,  I  thought  to  myself  that 
if  the  piano  were  a  man  who  had  seduced  her  sister,  she 
could  not  belabor  him  more  mercilessly.  She  also  plays 
on  the  harmonium.  Her  compositions  are  thought  of  a 
great  deal  here,  and  considered  very  deep ;  most  likely 
because  those  who  could  not  vinderstand  them,  hearing 
them  for  the  tenth  time,  hope  the  eleventh  time  will 
make  them  more  intelligible.  I  must  confess  that  these 
remarks  sound  malicious,  perhaps  bold  in  one  who  does 
not  profess  to  be  a  judge.  Yet  it  seems  to  me  that  music 
for  the  understanding  of  which  one  has  to  be  a  professor 
of  the  Conservatorium,  and  for  which  people  intellectu- 
ally developed,  let  alone  simple  folk,  do  not  possess  the 
kej'-,  is  not  what  it  ought  to  be.  I  am  afraid  that  musi- 
cians following  the  same  track  will  end  by  creating  a 
separate  caste,  like  the  Egyptian  priests,  in  order  to  keep 
knowledge  and  art  exclusively  to  themselves. 

I  say  this  because  I  notice  that  since  Wagner's  time, 
music,  compared,  for  instance,  to  painting,  has  taken  a 
quite  different  direction.  The  newer  school  of  painting 
is  narrowing  spontaneously  the  limit  of  its  proportions, 
tries  to  divest  itself  from  philosophical  and  literary 
ideas ;  does  not  attempt  speeches,  sermons,  historical 
events  that  require  a  commentary,  or  allegory  that  does 
not  explain  itself  at  a  glance ;  in  fact  confines  itself  with 
the  full  consciousness  of  doing  so  to  the  reproduction  of 
shape  and  color.  Music  since  Wagner's  time  goes  in  the 
opposite  direction,  —  tries  to  be,  not  only  a  harmony  of 
sound,  but  at  the  same  time  the  philosophy  of  harmony. 
I  sometimes  think  a  great  musical  genius  of  the  future 
will  say,  as  Ilegel  did  in  liis  time  :  — 

"  There  was  only  one  who  understood  me,  and  he  un- 
derstood me  wrongly." 

Miss  Hilst  belongs  to  the  category  of  musical  philoso- 
phers, which  is  all  the  more  strange,  as  her  mind  is  full 
of  simplicity.  This  caryatid  lias  the  limpid,  innocent 
eyes  of  a  child,  and  is  unsophisticated  and  sincere  like 
one.     Slie  is  surrounded  by  a  great  throng  of  admirers, 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  143 

who  are  attracted  by  her  beauty,  and  more  still  by  the 
nimbus  that  makes  a  woman  touched  by  the  hand  of  the 
Muses  always  a  centre  of  attraction ;  nevertheless,  not 
a  breath  has  touched  her  fair  fame.  Even  the  women 
speak  well  of  her,  for  she  disarms  them  by  her  invari- 
able good  humor  and  sincerity.  She  is  as  gay  as  any 
street  urchin,  and  I  have  seen  her  laughing  as  school- 
girls laugh,  the  tears  running  down  her  face,  which  would 
be  considered  bad  form  in  anybody  but  an  artist,  who  is 
a  privileged  person.  Hers,  from  a  moral  point  of  view,  is 
a  beautiful  character,  though  beyond  her  art,  she  is  not 
endowed  with  great  intellectual  gifts.  Laura,  who,  in  the 
main,  does  not  like  her,  hinted  to  me  several  times  that 
the  caryatid  is  in  love  with  me.  I  do  not  believe  it ; 
she  might  love  me,  perhaps,  if  I  tried  to  make  her.  One 
thing  is  certain,  she  likes  me  very  much,  and  felt  sym- 
pathy for  me  the  first  time  we  met.  I  return  the  senti- 
ment, and  do  not  try  to  disturb  her  peace  of  mind.  When 
I  meet  a  woman  for  the  first  time  I  look  upon  her,  from 
old  habit  I  suppose,  as  a  possible  conquest;  it  is  the 
first  instinct.  A  second  thought  is  quite  different.  Gen- 
erally speaking,  women  interest  me  in  the  way  precious 
stones  interest  a  jeweller  who  has  retired  from  business. 
Seeing  a  valuable  gem,  I  say  to  myself  it  is  worth  hav- 
ing, and  then  I  remember  that  I  have  sold  out,  and  go  on 
my  way. 

In  spite  of  all  that,  I  once,  half  in  jest,  urged  her  to 
go  to  Warsaw,  and  promised  to  escort  her  as  honorary 
impresario.  I  do  not  say  that  such  a  journey  would  be 
without  charm.  I  really  intend  going.  My  aunt  has 
given  me  her  town  house,  and  wants  me  to  come  over 
in  order  to  take  the  property.  Besides,  I  always  go  to 
Warsaw  for  the  races.  Who  would  believe  that  my 
aunt,  a  grave,  serious-minded  lady,  devoted  to  the  man- 
agement of  the  estate,  to  prayer  and  benevolent  schemes, 
had  such  a  worldly  weakness  as  horse-racing.  It  is  her 
one  passion.  Maybe  the  knightly  instincts  which  women 
inherit  as  well  as  men,  find  an  outlet  in  this  noble  sport. 


144  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Our  horses  have  been  running  for  Heaven  knows  how 
many  years,  —  and  are  always  beaten.  My  aunt  never 
fails  to  attend  the  races,  and  is  an  enthusiast  about 
horses.  While  her  own  horses  are  running,  she  stands 
on  the  back  seat  of  her  carriage,  leaning  on  a  stick,  her 
bonnet  usually  awry,  and  watches  for  the  result,  —  then 
gets  very  angry,  and  for  at  least  a  month  makes  Chwas- 
towski's  life  a  burden  to  him.  At  present  I  hear  she 
has  reared  a  wonderful  horse,  and  she  bids  me  to  come 
and  witness  the  triumph  of  the  black  and  orange  colors. 
I  shall  go.  There  are  other  reasons  too  which  make 
me  inclined  to  go.  As  I  have  said,  I  am  comparatively 
speaking  calm,  do  not  wish  for  anything,  or  expect  any- 
thing, am  resigned  in  fact  to  that  kind  of  spiritual  paral- 
ysis until  the  time  comes  when  bodily  paralysis  carries 
me  off,  as  it  carried  off  my  father.  Nevertheless,  I 
cannot  forget  altogether,  therefore  it  is  only  a  partial 
paralysis.  The  one  being  I  ever  loved  presents  herself 
before  my  mind  in  two  shapes.  The  one  is  called  Pani 
Kromitzka,  the  other  Aniela.  As  far  as  Pani  Kro- 
mitzka  is  concerned,  I  am  indifferent  and  a  stranger; 
but  Aniela  still  haunts  me  and  brings  with  her,  as  gifts, 
the  consciousness  of  wrong,  my  foolishness,  spiritual 
crookedness,  pain,  bitterness,  disappointment,  and  loss. 
Verily  a  munificent  spirit !  I  might  be  even  now  per- 
fectly contented  if  somebody  could  take  from  my  brain 
that  particular  part  wherein  memory  dwells.  I  try  to 
drive  away  the  thoughts  of  what  might  have  been  if 
things  had  turned  out  differently,  but  cannot  always 
manage  it.  My  munificent,  generous  angel  will  come 
now  and  then,  and  from  her  cornucopia  shower  her  gifts 
upon  me.  At  times  the  idea  comes  into  my  mind  that 
Pani  Kromitzka  will  lay  the  ghost  of  Aniela,  —  and 
that  is  one  reason  I  wish  to  go  ;  to  look  upon  her  happi- 
ness, her  married  life,  and  all  those  changes  which  must 
have  made  her  different  from  the  old  Aniela.  Perhaps 
I  may  meet  her  at  Ploszow,  as  she  will  want  to  see  her 
mother,  after  so  many  months  of  separation. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  145 

I  suppose  that  I  do  not  delude  myself,  and  that  "  oeci 
tuera  cela."  I  count  mostly  upon  my  nerves,  which  are  so 
easily  worked  upon.  I  remember  that  when  I  had  made 
Aniela's  acquaintance  and  her  charm  began  to  act  upon 
me  with  such  irresistible  force,  the  very  mention  of 
Kromitzki  in  connection  with  her  made  her  less  desirable. 
This  will  be  more  so  now,  when  she  belongs  to  him  body 
and  soul.  I  am  almost  certain  the  remedy  will  prove 
efficacious,  and  that  *'ceci  tuera  cela."  And  if  not,  if 
it  should  turn  out  differently,  what  have  I  to  lose  ?  I 
do  not  wish  to  gain  anything,  but  should  not  be  sorry 
perhaps  to  know  that  the  guilt  was  not  on  my  side  only, 
and  that  henceforth  the  burden  would  have  to  be  divided 
between  us  two ;  this  might  give  me  a  kind  of  satisfaction. 
I  say,  it  might,  because  I  am  not  sure  that  it  would. 
Thoughts  of  revenge  are  very  far  from  me.  It  is  only  on 
theatrical  boards  that  disappointed  lovers  are  thirsting 
for  revenge ;  in  real  life  they  go  away  with  distaste,  that 
is  all.  Moreover,  to  make  Pani  Kromitzka  believe  that 
she  had  done  wrong  in  rejecting  my  repentance  I  should 
have  to  believe  firmly  in  it  myself,  —  and  strange  to  say, 
there  are  moments  I  am  not  sure  of  anything. 


5  April. 
I  know  for  certain  I  shall  meet  Pani  Kromitzka.  Her 
husband  has  sold  the  estate,  betaken  himself  to  Baku  on 
business  speculation,  and  has  sent  his  wife  to  join  her 
mother  at  Ploszow ;  so  my  aunt  tells  me  in  her  letter. 
I  received  the  news  if  not  indifferently,  at  least  with 
perfect  composure,  but  I  notice  that  the  impression  grad- 
ually gained  upon  me.  At  present  I  cannot  think  of  any- 
thing else,  as  the  fact  is  of  so  great  importance  to  the 
two  women.  After  so  short  a  space  as  ten  months  he 
sold  the  estate  which  over  four  hundred  years  had  been 
in  Aniela's  family,  and  to  the  preservation  of  which 
Pani  Celina  had  devoted  her  own  life.  Then  comes 
a  Pan  Kromitzki  and  sells  it  with  a  light  heart  because 

10 


146  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

he  wants  the  money  for  his  speculations.  Suppose  he 
does  make  millions  —  will  that  compensate  the  women 
for  the  loss  of  Avhat  they  prized  above  money  ?  What 
will  they  think  of  him  now  ?  My  aunt  writes  that  she 
is  sitting  by  Pani  Celina's  bedside,  who  after  receiving 
the  news  of  the  sale  grew  worse  at  once.  I  am  quite 
certain  that  Aniela,  when  putting  her  signature  to  the 
deed  which  empowered  her  husband  to  dispose  of  the 
land,  did  not  know  what  she  was  signing.  She  is  even 
now  defending  her  husband.  My  aunt  quotes  from 
Aniela's  letter :  "  A  great  misfortune  has  happened,  but 
it  was  not  Charles's  fault."  Defend  him,  defend  him, 
0  loyal  wife  ;  but  you  cannot  prevent  ray  thinking  that 
he  has  wounded  you  deeply,  and  that  at  the  bottom 
of  your  heart  you  despise  him.  Neither  kisses  nor 
soft  words  will  efface  from  your  memory  the  one  word 
"  sold."  And  Pani  Celina  thought  that  after  the 
marriage  he  would  devote  his  money  towards  clearing 
off  the  debts  and  disincumbering  the  property !  Dear 
ladies,  I,  a  man  who  does  not  boast  of  civic  virtues, 
would  not  have  done  it,  if  for  no  other  reason  than 
innate  delicacy  of  feeling,  affection  for  you,  and  fear 
to  wound  3^ou.  But  for  speculations,  ready  money  is 
wanted.  I  hope  it  is  not  merely  prejudice,  but  these 
millions  I  heard  so  much  about  appear  to  me  like  a 
great  point  of  interrogation.  Maybe  he  will  get  them  ; 
perhaps  the  capital  realized  from  the  sale  will  help  him 
towards  it ;  but  if  he  had  possessed  the  wealth  he  used  to 
boast  of,  would  he  have  dealt  his  wife  and  mother-in-law 
such  a  blow,  and  sold  their  ancestral  seat  ?  My  aunt 
writes  that  he  left  immediately  after  the  sale  for  Baku, 
and  intends  to  go  as  far  as  Turkestan.  Aniela  being  too 
young  to  live  by  herself  must  needs  come  to  Ploszow,  as 
her  mother  cannot  leave  it  at  present,  because  she  is  too 
ill  to  travel ;  and  besides  my  aunt  will  not  let  her  go,  and 
she  is  afraid  of  crossing  her  in  any  way.  I  know  Aniela 
too  well  to  suspect  her  of  any  calculations.  She  is  the 
very  essence  of  disinterestedness.     But  the  mother,  who 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  147 

would  grasp  all  the  world  for  her  only  child,  dov.btless 
counts  upon  the  chance  of  a  legacy  for  Aniela.  And  she 
is  not  mistaken  either.  My  aunt,  who  never  quite  be- 
lieved in  Kromitzki's  millions,  gave  me  to  understand 
several  times  that  she  meant  to  do  something  for  Aniela ; 
she  said  it  with  a  certain  hesitation,  almost  humbly,  as 
she  considers  everything  ought  to  go  to  a  Ploszowski,  and 
that  to  leave  anything  to  another  would  be  a  wrong  to  the 
family.  How  little  she  knows  me  !  If  Aniela  were  in 
want  of  a  pair  of  shoes  and  I  had  to  sell  Ploszow  and  give 
all  I  possess,  she  should  have  them.  I  might  be  prompted 
by  a  less  noble  motive,  —  for  instance,  to  appear  different 
from  a  Kromitzki,  —  but  from  whatever  motive,  I  should 
give  it  certainly.  But  there  is  no  question  of  that  now.  I 
am  thinking  continually  that  she  is  living  at  Ploszow, 
and  will  remain  there  as  long  as  Kromitzki's  journeys 
last,  which  may  be  God  only  knows  for  how  long.  I  shall 
see  Pani  Kromitzka  every  day.  At  the  thought  of  this 
I  feel  a  certain  uneasiness,  with  a  strong  admixture  of 
curiosity  as  to  our  future  relations  towards  each  other ; 
and  I  clearly  see  what  might  happen  if  my  disposition 
and  feelings  in  regard  to  her  were  different.  I  never  lie 
to  myself ;  I  repeat  again  that  I  am  going  there  in  order 
to  cure  myself,  that  I  do  not  love  Pani  Kromitzka,  and 
never  will  love  her;  that  on  the  contrary,  I  am  in  hope 
that  the  sight  of  her  will  drive  Aniela  out  of  my  heart 
far  more  successfully  than  all  the  fiords  and  geysers; 
but  I  would  not  be  myself,  the  man  who  has  lived  much 
and  thought  much,  if  I  did  not  see  the  danger  which 
under  other  circumstances  such  a  position  might  bring 
forth. 

If  I  wanted  to  revenge  myself,  if  the  very  name  Pani 
Kromitzka  did  not  excite  my  loathing,  what  could  stand 
in  my  way  or  hinder  me,  —  in  quiet  Ploszow,  where 
would  be  we  two  only,  and  the  elder  ladies,  as  unsus- 
picious and  unsophisticated  in  their  stainless  virtue  as 
any  babies  ?  In  regard  to  this  I  know  my  aunt  and 
Pani  Celina.    In  the  higher  spheres  of  society  one  meets 


148  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

sometimes  women  thoroughly  corrupted ;  but  there  are 
many,  especially  among  the  older  generation,  who  pass 
through  life  like  angels,  with  no  thought  of  evil  ever 
coming  near  them.  Neither  my  aunt  nor  Pani  Celina 
would  ever  dream  of  any  danger  threatening  Aniela  now 
she  is  married.  Aniela  herself  belongs  to  that  kind. 
She  would  not  have  rejected  my  prayers  had  she  not 
given  her  word  to  Kromitzki.  But  Polish  women  of 
this  kind  would  rather  break  a  heart  than  break  their 
word.  At  the  very  thought  of  it  a  dull  wrath  seizes  me. 
I  crush  down  within  me  the  desire  every  one  has  to  prove 
the  truth  of  his  opinion.  I  do  not  want  to  argue  at  all 
with  Pani  Kromitzka,  but  if  somebody  else  would  do  it, 
—  point  out  to  women  like  her  that  the  laws  of  na- 
ture, laws  of  affection,  cannot  be  broken  with  impunity, 
that  they  are  stronger  than  any  ethic  laws,  I  should  be 
glad  of  it.  It  is  true  I  have  sinned  in  regard  to  Aniela, 
but  I  wished  to  make  amendment  from  the  very  depth 
of  my  heart,  and  she  rejected  me,  —  rejected  me  perhaps 
so  as  to  be  able  to  say  to  herself :  "  I  am  not  a  Leon 
Ploszowski ;  I  have  given  a  promise,  and  do  not  take  it 
back."  This  is  not  virtue,  it  is  want  of  heart ;  it  is  not 
heroism,  but  foolishness ;  not  rectitude  of  conscience, 
but  vanity.  I  cannot  forget,  I  cannot ;  but  Pani  Krom- 
itzka will  help  me.  When  I  come  to  see  her  in  her  new 
matronly  dignity,  satisfied  with  her  heroism,  self-pos- 
sessed, in  love,  or  apparently  so,  with  her  husband, 
watching  me  furtively  to  see  whether  I  have  been  pun- 
ished, and  punished  sufficiently,  full  of  happiness  and 
her  own  virtues,  the  ghost  of  my  old  love  will  be  laid, 
and  I  can  go  back  to  where  the  reindeer  lives  without 
Aniela's  memory  following  me  like  the  sea-gulls  in  the 
track  of  ships. 

It  is  possible  that  Pani  Kromitzka  will  put  on  the  airs 
of  an  injured  victim,  and  her  whole  manner  to  me  may 
say :  "  It  is  your  fault !  "  Very  well.  We  have  seen  some 
of  that  in  the  world.  As  artificial  flowers  have  one  de- 
fect, the  want  of  scent,  artificial  crowns  of  thorn  have 


WITHOUT  DOGIVLA..  149 

one  advantage,  they  do  not  prick,  and  may  be  worn  as  a 
bonnet,  very  becoming  to  a  pretty  face.  Whenever  I 
met  one  of  those  victims  who  married  out  of  despair  I 
felt  a  desire  to  say  :  "  It  is  not  true  !  you  were  a  victim 
maybe  in  good  faith  as  long  as  the  chosen  one  did  not 
approach  you  in  his  slippers.  From  that  moment  you 
ceased  to  be  pathetic,  and  are  only  ridiculous,  and  the 
more  so  if  you  pose  as  a  victim." 


6  April. 

How  beautiful  and  wise  is  the  Greek  word  "  ananke." 
It  was  fated  that  through  a  woman  I  should  lose  my 
peace  of  mind,  though  I  had  ceased  to  care  for  her.  The 
news  that  her  ancestral  seat  is  sold,  and  she  herself  com- 
ing to  live  at  Ploszow,  moved  me  so  deeply  that  I  could 
not  sleep.  Various  questions  knocked  at  my  brain,  ask- 
ing for  admittance.  I  tried  to  solve  the  question  whether 
I  had  any  right  to  lead  Pani  Kromitzka  from  the  path  of 
virtue.  I  neither  wish,  nor  will  I  endeavor  to  do  so,  be- 
cause she  has  ceased  to  attract  me ;  but  would  it  be 
right  ?  I  fill  my  life  with  these  questions  of  "  to  be,  or 
not  to  be,"  because  I  have  nothing  else  to  do.  Thoughts 
like  mine  are  not  reckoned  among  the  delights  of  life.  It 
is  like  the  dog  trying  to  catch  his  tail ;  he  does  not  catch 
anything.  I  do  not  prove  anything,  only  tire  myself ; 
but  have  the  satisfaction  that  another  day  has  passed, 
or  another  night  gone  by. 

I  observe  at  the  same  time,  that  with  all  my  scepti- 
cism, I  am  still  beset  with  scruples  worthy  of  the  vicar 
of  Ploszow.  The  modern  man  is  composed  of  so  many 
threads  that  in  trying  to  set  himself  right,  he  gets  more 
and  more  entangled.  It  was  in  vain  I  repeated  to  my- 
self, if  only  in  theory,  that  I  had  the  right.  A  voice,  as 
from  the  parish  church,  seemed  to  say  at  intervals  :  "  No  ! 
no  !  you  have  not  the  right !  "  But  scruples  like  these 
ought  to  be  kept  down,  as  for  me  this  is  a  question  of 
keeping  my  mind  evenly  balanced.     At  this  quiet  eveii' 


150  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

ing  time,  I  feel  just  in  the  humor  for  it.  This  afternoon, 
at  a  well-known  jtainter's  studio,  I  heard  Mrs.  Davis  main- 
tain, in  diseussion  with  two  literary  men,  that  a  woman 
ought  to  be  unapproachable  all  her  life,  if  only  "  pour  la 
nettete  du  plumage,"  and  Maleschi  repeated,  "  Oui,  oui, 
—  du  plumaze."  Oh,  ye  gods  and  fishes !  I  fancied  all 
the  crabs  in  the  Mediterranean  rolling  on  their  backs  in 
silent  laughter,  and  raising  their  claws  to  heaven,  im- 
ploring Jove  for  a  thunderbolt!  By  the  bye,  Mrs. 
Davis  borrowed  that  sentence  from  me,  and  I  borrowed 
it  from  Feuillet.  I  kept  my  gravity,  and  did  not  permit 
myself  the  slightest  smile,  but  it  put  me  into  a  merry, 
cynical  humor,  the  reflection  of  which  still  remains  with 
me,  and  is  for  the  moment  the  best  weapon  against  scru- 
ples of  conscience. 

Now  for  the  start.  Would  it  be  right  for  me  to  fall  in 
love  with  Pani  Kromitzka,  and  in  case  of  success  lead 
her  from  the  path  of  duty  ?  First,  let  us  look  at  it  from 
a  point  of  honor,  as  people  consider  it  who  call  them- 
selves, and  whom  the  world  regards  as,  gentlemen. 
There  is  not  a  single  paragraph  there  against  it.  It  is 
one  of  the  queerest  codices  ever  invented  under  the  sun. 
If,  for  instance,  I  steal  somebody's  money,  the  disgrace 
falls  upon  me,  and  not  upon  the  man  who  is  robbed,  ac- 
cording to  the  world's  rule  of  honor;  but  if  I  rob  him  of 
his  wife,  it  is  not  I,  but  the  robbed  man  who  is  disgraced. 
"What  does  it  mean  ?  Is  it  a  mere  aberration  of  the 
moral  sense,  or  is  it  that  between  stealing  a  man's  purse 
and  stealing  his  wife,  there  is  such  a  vast  difference  that 
the  two  cases  cannot  be  even  compared  ?  I  have  often 
thought  over  this,  and  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  is  a  great  difference.  A  human  being  can  never  be 
as  absolutely  a  property  as  a  thing,  and  the  taking  away 
somebody's  wife  is  an  act  of  a  double  will.  Why  should 
I  respect  the  rights  of  a  husband  if  his  own  wife  does 
not  ?  What  is  he  to  me  ?  I  meet  a  woman  who  wants 
to  be  mine,  and  I  take  her.  Her  husband  does  not  exist 
for  me  J  her  vows  are  no  affair  of  mine.     What  should 


"WITHOUT  DOGMA.  151 

hold  me  back  ?  Respect  for  the  matrimonial  institution  ? 
But  if  I  loved  Pani  Ivromitzka,  I  would  cry  out  from  the 
very  depth  of  my  soul :  "  I  protest  against  this  mar- 
riage ;  protest  against  her  duties  towards  Kromitzki.  I 
am  the  worm  this  marriage  has  crushed ;  and  they  tell 
me,  writhing  in  anguish,  to  respect  it,  —  me,  who  would 
sting  it  with  my  last  breath."  Why  ;  for  what  reason  ? 
What  do  I  care  for  a  social  institution  that  has  wrung 
from  me  the  last  drop  of  blood,  deprived  me  of  my  very 
existence  ?  Man  lives  on  fish.  Go  tell  the  fish  to  re- 
spect the  order  that  it  be  skinned  alive  before  being  put 
on  the  fire.  I  protest  and  sting,  —  that  is  my  answer. 
Spencer^s  ideal  of  a  finally  developed  man,  in  whom  the 
individual  impulses  will  be  in  perfect  harmony  with  so- 
cial laws,  is  nothing  but  an  assumption.  I  know  perfectly 
that  such  as  Sniatynski  would  demolish  my  theory  with 
one  question  :  "  You  are  then  for  free-love  ?  "  No,  noth- 
ing of  the  sort.  I  am  for  myself.  I  do  not  wish  to  hear 
anything  about  your  theories.  If  you  fall  in  love  with 
another  woman,  or  your  wife  with  somebody  else,  we 
shall  see  what  becomes  of  your  rules,  paragraphs,  and  re- 
spect for  social  institutions.  At  the  worst,  I  might  be 
called  inconsequent.  I  was  inconsequent,  too,  when  I,  a 
sceptic,  had  a  mass  offered  up  for  Leon  and  Aniela,  and 
prayed  like  a  child,  and  swallowed  my  tears  like  any  fool. 
In  future  I  will  always  be  inconsequent  when  it  suits 
me  and  makes  me  happier.  There  is  only  one  logic  in 
the  world,  —  the  logic  of  passions.  Reason  holds  the 
reins  for  a  time,  but  when  the  horses  tear  along  in  mad 
career,  she  sits  on  the  box  and  merely  watches  lest  the 
vehicle  should  go  to  pieces.  The  human  heart  cannot  bo 
rendered  love-proof,  and  love  is  an  element  strong  as  tidal 
waves.  The  very  gates  of  hell  cannot  overcome  a  woman 
who  loves  her  husband,  for  the  marriage  vows  are  only 
the  sealing  of  love's  compact ;  but  if  it  be  mere  duty,  the 
first  tide  will  throw  her  on  the  sands  like  a  dead  fish.  I 
cannot  bind  myself  not  to  let  my  hair  grow,  or  to  remain 
always  young ;  and  as  often  as  I  did  so,  the  laws  of  na* 


152  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

ture  would  take  their  course  in  spite  of  human  bonds.  It 
is  strange,  but  all  that  I  am  writing  is  pure  theory.  I 
have  no  schemes  I  need  justify  before  myself,  and  yet  all 
these  reflections  have  stirred  my  soul  to  such  an  extent 
that  I  had  to  leave  off  writing.  My  calmness  is  evidently 
artificial.  I  walked  up  and  down  tlie  room  for  an  hour, 
and  at  last  found  out  what  disturbed  me. 

It  is  very  late.  From  the  windows  of  ray  room  I  see 
the  cupola  of  the  Invalides  gleaming  in  the  moonlight,  as 
once  I  saw  St.  Peter's  cupola,  when,  full  of  hope,  I  walked 
on  the  Pincio,  thinking  of  Aniela.  Unconsciously  I  had 
given  myself  up  to  those  memories.  Whatever  there  be 
or  awaits  us  in  the  future,  one  tiling  is  certain  :  I  could 
have  been  happy,  and  she  might  be  ten,  nay,  a  hundred 
times  happier  than  she  is.  Even  now,  if  I  had  any  hid- 
den schemes,  or  if  she  were  to  me  the  greatest  tempta- 
tion, I  would  respect  her  unhappiness.  I  would  not  hurt 
her  for  anything.  The  very  thought  of  it  would  take 
away  my  courage  and  decision,  I  had  such  an  amount  of 
tenderness  for  her. 

But  all  that  is  in  the  past.  The  sceptic  dwelling 
within  me  creeps  up  again  with  another  question : 
Would  she  be  really  so  unhappy  ?  I  have  verified,  not 
once,  but  several  times,  the  fact  that  women  are  un- 
happy only  while  they  struggle.  The  battle  once  over, 
regardless  of  the  result,  there  follows  a  period  of  calm 
and  happiness.  I  knew  at  one  time  a  woman  in  Paris 
who  resisted  most  persistently  for  three  years.  When 
at  last  her  heart  got  the  upper  hand  and  she  gave  in,  she 
only  reproached  herself  for  not  having  done  so  sooner. 

But  what  is  the  use  of  putting  all  these  questions  or 
trying  to  solve  problems  ?  I  know  that  every  principle 
is  open  to  argument,  and  every  proof  to  scepticism.  The 
good  old  times  when  people  doubted  everything  except 
their  intelligence  to  recognize  the  true  from  the  false, 
have  gone.  At  present  there  is  nothing  but  labyrinths 
upon  labyrinths.  I  had  better  not  think  of  anything 
but  the  journey  before  me.     And  Kromitzki  sold  his 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  153 

wife's  ancestral  home  and  thus  inflicted  on  her  a  cruel 
blow  !  I  had  to  write  it  down  black  on  white  once  more, 
otherwise  I  could  not  believe  it. 


10  April. 

I  went  towards  evening  to  say  good-by  to  Mrs.  Davis, 
and  dropped  in  for  a  regular  concert,  Laura  seems 
really  very  fond  of  music.  Miss  Hilst  was  playing  on 
the  harmonium.  I  always  like  to  see  her,  but  especially 
when  she  sits  down  to  the  harmonium,  and  playing  the 
prelude,  keeps  her  eyes  on  the  keys.  There  is  so  much 
earnestness  and  intentness  in  her  face,  combined  with 
calmness.  She  reminds  me  of  Saint  Cecilia,  the  most 
sympathetic  of  all  saints,  with  whom  I  should  have 
fallen  in  love  had  she  lived  in  our  times.  A  pity  Clara 
is  so  tall ;  but  one  forgets  it  when  she  is  playing.  From 
time  to  time  she  lifts  her  eyes,  as  if  recalling  to  memory 
a  note  heard  somewhere  in  the  spheres,  or  seeking  in- 
spiration, and  she  herself  looks  like  one  inspired.  She 
rightly  bears  the  name  of  Clara,  for  it  would  be  difficult 
to  find  a  more  transparent  soul.  I  said  I  liked  to  see  her  ; 
as  to  her  music,  it  is  still  the  same ;  I  do  not  understand 
it,  or  rather  I  follow  her  meaning  with  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty. Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  my  satirical  remarks,  I 
think  she  has  a  remarkable  talent. 

When  she  had  finished  I  approached  her,  and  still 
half  jestingly  said  the  time  had  come  and  I  was  ready 
to  escort  her  to  Warsaw  according  to  our  agreement.  I 
was  surprised  to  see  her  take  my  proposition  so  seriously. 
She  said  that  she  had  wanted  to  go  there  for  some  time, 
and  was  quite  ready  ;  it  was  all  a  question  of  informing 
an  old  relative  who  always  went  with  her,  and  of  taking 
a  dumb  piano,  as  she  practised  even  on  her  journeys. 

The  prospect  began  to  alarm  me  somewhat.  If  she 
goes,  I  shall  have  to  help  her  in  getting  up  a  concert, 
and  I  would  rather  go  straight  on  to  Ploszow.  As  a  last 
resource  I  could  hand  her  over  to  Sniatynski,  who  woul4 


154  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

be  more  useful  to  her  than  I.  Besides,  Miss  Hilst  is 
the  daughter  of  a  ricli  mill-owner  at  Frankfurt,  and  it  is 
not  a  question  of  material  success  witli  her.  Tlie  eager- 
ness with  which  she  agreed  to  the  journey  made  me 
thoughtful.  I  had  half  a  mind  to  tell  her  that  I  did  not 
object  to  the  dumb  piano  so  much  as  to  the  elderly  rela- 
tive. Men  are  so  prone  to  lie  in  wait  for  women  that 
few  approach  a  young  and  pretty  one  without  an  after- 
thought. As  to  myself,  though  wholly  absorbed  by 
something  else,  the  idea  of  the  old  relative  travelling 
with  us  Avas  unpleasant,  the  more  so  as  my  person  evi- 
dently j)lays  some  part  in  this  so  quickly  arranged  jour- 
ney. Paris  presents  a  far  wider  scope  for  her  musical 
talent,  and  she  does  not  care  for  gain ;  why  should  she  be 
so  anxious  to  go  to  Warsaw  ?  Laura,  as  I  have  said,  has 
hinted  more  than  once  that  Miss  Hilst  has  more  than  a 
liking  for  me.  A  strange  woman,  Laura  !  Clara's  inno- 
cence excites  her  envy,  but  only  as  it  might  be  excited  by 
a  beautiful  jewel,  or  by  rare  lace,  —  with  her  it  is  merely 
a  question  of  adornment.  Maybe  for  that  reason  she 
would  like  to  push  that  big  child  into  my  arms.  She 
does  not  care  for  me  any  longer;  I  am  an  ornament 
she  has  worn  already. 

That  woman,  though  unconsciously,  has  wrought  me 
such  irreparable  harm  that  I  ought  to  hate  her,  but 
cannot,  —  first,  because  I  am  conscious  that,  had  she 
never  crossed  my  path,  I  should  have  probably  found 
some  other  means  to  wreck  my  happiness ;  secondly,  as 
Satan  is  a  fallen  angel,  so  hatred  is  degenerated  love, 
and  I  never  loved  Laura.  There  is  a  little  contempt  for 
her,  a  little  dislike,  and  she  returns  the  feeling  undoubt- 
edly a  hundredfold. 

As  to  Clara's  feelings,  Laura  may  be  right.  To-day  I 
saw  it  clearer  than  ever.  If  that  be  the  case,  I  am 
grateful  to  her.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  long  for 
the  pure  friendship  of  a  woman.  A  soul  so  restless  as 
mine  will  find  solace  and  comfort  in  such  a  friendship. 

We  conversed  together  to-day,  Clara  and  I,  like  old 


WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


155 


friends.  Her  intelligence  is  not  large,  but  clear  and  dis- 
cerning between  bad  and  good,  ugly  and  what  she  con- 
siders beautiful;  consequently  her  judgment  is  not 
shifty,  but  calm  and  serene.  She  has  that  kind  of  spir- 
itual healthiness  often  met  with  in  Germans.  Coming 
across  them  now  and  then  I  observe  that  tlie  type  I 
belong  to  is  very  rare  among  them.  The  Germans  and 
the  English  are  generally  positive  and  know  what  they 
want.  They  too  are  sounding  the  fathomless  depth  of 
doubt,  but  they  do  it  methodically  as  scientists,  not  as 
sensitive  geniuses  without  portfolio  like  me  ;  in  conse- 
quence of  which  their  recent  transcendental  philosophy, 
their  present  scientific  pessimism,  and  their  poetic  Welt- 
schmerz  have  only  a  theoretical  meaning.  Their  every- 
day practice  consists  in  adapting  themselves  to  the  rules 
of  life.  According  to  Hartmann,  the  more  humanity 
gains  in  intensity  and  consciousness,  the  more  unhappy 
it  grows.  The  same  Hartmann,  with  the  calmness  of  a 
German  Culttir-trdffer,  becomes  practical  when  he  raises 
his  voice  in  favor  of  suppressing  the  Polish  element  as 
detrimental  to  German  supremacy.  But,  putting  aside 
this  incident,  which  belongs  to  the  category  of  human 
villanies,  Germans  do  not  take  theories  seriously,  and 
therefore  are  always  calm  and  capable  of  action.  This 
same  calmness  Clara  possesses.  Things  which  rend  and 
trouble  human  souls  must  have  come  near  her  some  time 
or  other,  but  if  so  they  left  no  trace  and  were  not  ab- 
sorbed by  her ;  thus  she  never  lost  faith  in  truth  and  in 
her  art.  If  she  has  any  deeper  feeling  for  me  than  mere 
friendship,  the  feeling  is  unconscious  and  does  not  ask 
for  anything  in  return.  If  it  were  otherwise,  it  would 
be  the  beginning  of  her  tragedy,  as  I  could  not  return 
her  love  and  might  make  her  unhappy.  I  am  not  so 
conceited  as  to  think  that  no  woman  could  resist  me,  but 
I  am  of  the  opinion  that  no  woman  can  resist  the  man  she 
truly  loves.  It  is  a  trite  saying  that  ''  a  fortress  besieged 
is  a  fortress  surrendered,"  but  there  is  some  truth  in  it 
when  adapted  to  woman,   especially  when  behind  the 


156  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

entrenchment  of  her  virtues  she  harbors  such  a  traitor 
as  her  own  heart.  But  Clara  may  rest  tranquil.  We 
shall  travel  peacefully  together:  she,  her  old  relative, 
xiiyself,  and  the  dumb  piano. 

16  April. 

I  arrived  at  Warsaw  three  days  ago,  but  have  not  been 
able  to  go  to  I'loszow  as,  shortly  after  my  arrival,  I  got  a 
cold  in  my  teeth  and  my  face  is  swollen.  I  do  not  wish 
to  show  myself  to  the  ladies  in  that  state. 

I  have  seen  Sniatynski,  and  my  aunt,  who  has  wel- 
comed me  as  the  prodigal  son.  Aniela  arrived  at  Plos- 
zow  a  week  ago.  Her  mother  is  very  ill,  so  ill  that 
the  doctors  who  advised  her  to  try  Wiesbaden  now  de- 
clare she  could  not  bear  the  journey.  She  will  therefore 
remain  at  Ploszow  until  she  recovers  —  or  dies,  and 
Aniela  with  her,  until  Kromitzki  winds  up  his  business 
or  thinks  it  proper  to  give  her  a  home.  From  what  my 
aunt  says  this  may  take  him  some  months.  I  tried  to  get 
from  my  aunt  as  much  news  about  Aniela  as  I  could, 
which  is  easy  enough,  as  she  speaks  about  her  with  per- 
fect freedom.  She  simply  cannot  understand  how  a 
married  woman  could  excite  any  feeling  except  in  the 
way  of  relationship ;  or  rather,  she  has  never  even  con- 
sidered the  question.  She  spoke  openly  about  the  sale 
of  Aniela's  home,  which  she  considers  a  great  shame. 
She  got  so  excited  over  it  as  to  break  her  watch-chain 
and  let  the  watch  roll  on  the  floor. 

"  I  will  tell  him  so  to  his  face,"  she  said.  "  I  would 
rather  have  lent  him  the  money  had  I  known  anything 
about  it.  Only  what  would  have  been  the  use  ?  His 
speculations  are  a  gulf.  I  do  not  know  whether  any 
good  will  come  out  of  it,  but  in  the  meanwhile  every- 
thing is  swallowed  up  in  it.  Let  him  only  come,  and  I 
will  tell  him  that  he  makes  Aniela  unhappy,  kills  her 
mother,  and  will  end  in  ruining  them  and  himself."  I 
asked  my  aunt  whether  she  had  said  anything  about  this 
|o  Aniela, 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  157 

"  To  Aniela  ? "  she  replied.  "  I  am  glad  you  have 
come ;  it  relieves  my  mind  and  makes  it  easier  to  bear. 
I  cannot  speak  about  it  with  Aniela.  I  tried  it  once 
when  I  could  not  contain  myself  any  longer.  I  made 
some  remark  and  she  grew  very  angry,  then  burst  out 
crying  and  said,  'He  was  obliged,  he  was  obliged,  and 
could  not  help  it.'  She  does  not  allow  anybody  to  say  a 
word  against  him,  and  would  like  to  cover  all  his  short- 
comings before  the  world  ;  but  she  cannot  deceive  an  old 
woman  like  me,  and  I  know  that  at  the  bottom  of  her 
heart  she  must  condemn  him  as  I  do." 

"  Do  you  mean  she  does  not  love  him  ? " 

My  aunt  looked  at  me  in  unfeigned  surprise. 

"  Not  love  him  ?  Of  course  she  loves  him.  Whom 
should  she  love  if  not  him  ?  That  's  just  where  the  sting 
lies ;  she  grieves  because  she  loves  him.  But  one  may 
love  and  yet  have  one's  eyes  open  to  what  is  wrong." 

I  had  my  own  opinion  on  that  point,  but  preferred  not 
to  express  it,  and  allowed  my  aunt  to  proceed. 

'•'What  I  resent  most  in  him  are  his  lies.  He  assured 
Celina  and  Aniela  that  in  a  year  or  two  he  would  be  able 
to  buy  the  estate  back.  Just  tell  me,  is  this  possible  ? 
and  those  women  believe  he  is  in  earnest ! " 

"  According  to  my  opinion  it  is  quite  impossible.  Be- 
sides, he  will  go  on  speculating." 

"  He  knows  it  even  better  than  we  do,  and  yet  he  goes 
on  lying  to  the  women." 

"  Perhaps  he  does  it  to  relieve  their  anxiety." 

My  aunt  grew  angrier  still. 

"  Relieve  their  anxiety  !  fiddlesticks  !  they  would  not 
have  had  any  anxiety  if  he  had  not  sold  it.  Do  not  de- 
fend him,  it  is  of  no  use.  Everbody  blames  him.  Chwa- 
stowski  was  wild  about  it.  He  had  looked  into  the  affairs, 
and  says  that  without  any  ready  money  he  could  have 
cleared  the  estate  himself  in  a  few  years.  I  would  have 
given  the  money  and  so  would  you,  would  you  not  ?  and 
now  it  is  too  late." 

Presently  I  inquired  about  Aniela's  health,   with   a 


158  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

strange,  troubled  foreboding  I  might  hear  something 
which,  though  perfectly  natural  and  in  the  order  of 
things,  would  give  a  shock  to  my  nerves.  My  aunt 
caught  the  drift  of  my  thoughts  and  replied  with  as 
much  acerbity  as  before  :  — 

"  There  is  nothing  whatever  the  matter  with  her.  All 
he  could  do  he  did;  that  was  to  sell  his  wife's  estate. 
No,  there  is  nothing  expected." 

I  turned  the  conversation  to  something  else.  I  told 
my  aunt  I  had  arrived  together  with  the  celebrated  pian- 
ist Miss  Hilst,  who,  having  considerable  means  of  her 
own,  wished  to  give  a  few  concerts  gratis.  My  aunt  is 
a  queer  mixture  of  eccentricities.  She  began  by  abus- 
ing Miss  Hilst  for  not  coming  in  winter,  when  the  time 
for  concerts  was  more  propitious ;  presently  began  con- 
sidering that  it  was  not  too  late  yet,  and  wanted  to  go 
and  call  upon  her  at  once.  I  could  scarcely  persuade  her 
to  put  off  her  visit  until  I  had  told  Miss  Hilst  about  it. 
My  aunt  is  a  patroness  of  several  charitable  institutions, 
and  it  is  with  her  a  point  of  honor  to  get  for  them  as 
much  as  she  can  at  the  expense  of  other  institutions,  con- 
sequently was  afraid  somebody  else  might  forestall  her 
with  the  artist. 

When  leaving  me  she  asked,  "  When  are  you  coming 
to  stay  at  Ploszow  ?  " 

I  replied  that  I  was  not  going  to  stay  there  at  all.  I 
had  thought  of  that  during  the  journey  and  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  would  be  better  to  have  ray  head- 
quarters at  Warsaw.  Ploszow  is  only  six  miles  from 
here,  and  I  can  go  there  in  the  morning  and  stay  as  long 
as  I  like.  It  is  indifferent  to  me  where  I  live,  and  my 
living  here  will  prevent  people  talking.  Besides,  I  do 
not  want  Pani  Kromitzka  to  think  I  am  anxious  to 
dwell  under  the  same  roof  with  her.  I  spoke  of  this  to 
Sniatynski,  and  saw  that  he  fully  agreed  with  me ;  he 
seemed  anxious  to  discuss  Aniela  with  me.  Sniatynski 
is  a  very  intelligent  man,  but  he  does  not  seem  to  under- 
stand that  changed  circumstances  mean  changed  relations. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  159 

even  between  the  best  of  friends.  He  came  to  me  as  if  I 
were  the  same  Leon  Ploszowski  who,  shaking  in  every 
limb,  asked  for  his  help  at  Cracow ;  he  approached  me 
with  the  same  abrupt  sincerity,  desiring  to  plunge  his 
hand  up  to  his  elbow  under  my  ribs.  I  pulled  him  up 
sharply,  and  he  seemed  surprised  and  somewhat  angry. 
Presently  he  fell  in  with  my  humor,  and  we  talked  to- 
gether as  if  the  last  meeting  at  Cracow  had  never  taken 
place.  I  noticed,  nevertheless,  that  he  watched  me  fur- 
tively, and  not  being  able  to  make  me  out  tried  indirect 
inquiry,  with  all  the  clumsiness  of  an  author  who  is  a 
deep  psychologist  and  reader  of  the  human  mind  at  his 
desk,  and  as  unsophisticated  as  any  student  in  practical 
life.  As  Hamlet  of  yore,  I  might  have  handed  him  a  pipe 
and  said,  "  Do  you  think  I  am  easier  to  be  played  on  than 
a  pipe  ?  Call  me  what  instrument  you  will,  though  you 
can  fret  me,  yet  you  cannot  play  upon  me." 

I  had  been  reading  Hamlet  the  night  before,  as  I 
have  read  it  many  a  time,  and  involuntarily  these  words 
came  into  my  mind.  It  seems  to  me  surpassing  strange 
that  a  man  of  ray  time,  in  whatever  position  or  compli- 
cated trouble  of  soul,  should  find  so  much  analogy  to 
himself  as  I  find  in  this  drama,  based  upon  Holinshed's 
sanguinary  and  gross  legend.  Hamlet  is  the  human  soul 
as  it  was,  as  it  is,  and  as  it  will  be.  In  conceiving  this 
drama,  Shakspeare  overstepped  the  limit  fixed  even  for 
genius.  I  can  understand  Homer  and  Dante,  studied  by 
the  light  of  their  epoch.  I  can  comprehend  that  they 
could  do  what  they  did ;  but  how  an  Englishman  of  the 
seventeenth  century  could  foreknow  psychosis,  a  science 
of  recent  growth,  will  be  to  me,  in  spite  of  my  study  of 
Hamlet,  an  everlasting  mystery. 

Having  mentally  handed  over  to  Sniatynski  Hamlet's 
pipe,  I  recommended  to  his  care  Miss  Hilst,  and  then  be- 
gan to  discuss  his  pet  theories.  Upon  his  wanting  to 
know  what  brought  me  back,  I  said  it  was  the  longing 
for  the  country,  and  consciousness  of  unfulfilled  duties 
towards  it.     I  said  it  in  a  careless,  off-hand  way,  and  Sni- 


160  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

atynski  looked  puzzled,  not  knowing  whether  I  spoke  seri- 
ously or  mockingly.  And  again  the  same  phenomenon 
of  which  I  spoke  in  Paris  repeated  itself  here.  The 
moral  ascendency  he  had  gained  over  me  gradually  dis- 
appeared. He  did  not  know  himself  what  to  think,  but 
he  saw  the  old  key  would  not  serve  any  longer.  When 
he  said  good-by  I  again  recommended  to  him  Miss  Hilst. 
He  looked  at  me  keenly. 

"  Do  you  attach  much  importance  to  her  success  ?  " 
"  Yes,  very  much.     She  is  a  person  I  hold  in  great 
esteem,  and  have  much  friendship  for." 

In  this  way  I  centred  all  his  attention  on  Miss  Hilst. 
Most  likely  he  thought  I  had  fallen  in  love  with  her. 
He  went  away  angry,  and  could  not  disguise  his  feelings. 
He  shut  the  door  sharply ;  and  when  I  accompanied  him 
as  far  as  the  staircase,  and  turned  back  to  the  anteroom, 
I  heard  him  descending  the  staircase,  taking  four  steps 
at  once,  and  whistling,  —  which  he  always  does  when 
angry.  Besides,  it  was  quite  true,  what  I  said  about 
Miss  Hilst.  I  wrote  to-day  to  Clara,  explaining  why  I 
had  not  been  to  see  her,  and  received  a  reply  at  once. 
She  is  delighted  with  "Warsaw,  and  especially  its  inhab- 
itants. All  the  musical  world  has  called  upon  her,  and 
they  are  vying  with  each  other  in  politeness  and  offers 
of  help.  Whether  they  would  be  quite  as  enthusiastic 
had  she  come  to  settle  here,  is  another  question ;  but 
Clara  has  the  gift  to  win  friends  wherever  she  goes. 
She  has  already  seen  something  of  the  town,  and  was 
much  charmed  wdth  the  Sazienki  Park  and  Palace.  I 
am  glad  she  likes  it,  —  the  more  so  as  the  country, 
soon  after  crossing  the  frontier,  seemed  to  her  rather 
depressing.  Truly,  only  those  born  on  the  soil  can  find 
any  charm  in  the  vast  solitary  plains,  where  the  eye 
finds  very  little  to  rest  upon.  Clara,  looking  through 
the  carriage  window,  said  more  than  once  :  "  Ah  !  I  can 
understand  Chopin  now ! "  She  is  utterly  mistaken, 
—  she  does  not  understand  Chopin  and  his  feelings, 
any  more   than  she  is  in  touch  with  his  native   land. 


WlTIiOUi'  DuGMA.  ICI 

I,  though  a  cosmopolitan  by  education,  by  atavism 
understand  our  nature,  and  am  surprised  myself  at  the 
spell  a  Polish  spring  casts  upon  me,  and  it  seems  as  if  I 
could  never  feel  tired  of  it.  Properly  speaking,  what 
does  the  view  consist  of  ?  Sometimes,  on  purpose,  I  put 
myself  into  a  stranger's  place,  —  a  painter's,  having  no 
preconceived  ideas  about  it,  and  look  at  it  with  his  eyes. 
The  landscape  then  makes  upon  me  the  impression  as  if 
a  child  had  drawn  it,  or  a  savage,  who  had  no  notion 
about  drawing.  Flat  fallow-land,  wet  meadows,  huts 
with  their  rectangular  outline,  the  straight  poplars 
around  country-seats  on  the  distant  horizon,  a  broad,  flat 
plain,  finished  off  with  a  belt  of  woods,  —  that  "  ten 
miles  of  nothing,"  as  the  Germans  call  it ;  all  this 
reminds  me  of  a  first  attempt  at  drawing  landscape. 
There  is  scarcely  enough  for  a  background.  From  the 
moment  I  cease  looking  upon  it  with  a  stranger's  eyes, 
I  begin  to  feel  the  simplicity  of  the  view,  incorporate 
myself  witli  that  immense  breadth,  where  every  outlined 
object  melts  into  the  far  distance,  as  a  soul  in  Nirvana ; 
it  has  not  only  the  artistic  charm  of  priraitiveness,  but 
it  acts  soothingly  upon  me.  I  admire  the  Apennines ; 
but  my  spirit  is  not  in  touch  with  them,  and  sooner  or 
later  they  become  wearisome.  The  human  being  finds 
a  resting-place  only  where  he  is  in  harmony  with  his 
surroundings ;  and  is  reminded  that  his  soul  and  the  soul 
of  nature  are  of  the  same  organization.  Homesickness 
springs  from  the  isolation  of  the  soul  from  its  surround- 
ings. It  appears  to  me  that  the  principle  of  psychical 
relationship  could  be  applied  in  a  still  wider  sense.  It 
may  seem  strange  that  I,  brought  up  in  foreign  lands, 
permeated  by  their  culture,  should  harbor  such  views  ; 
but  I  go  farther  still,  and  say  a  foreign  woman,  even  the 
most  beautiful,  appears  to  me  more  as  a  species  of  the 
female  kind  than  a  soul. 

I  remember  what  I  wrote  at  one  time  concerning 
Polish  women,  but  one  statement  does  not  contradict 
the  other ;    I  may  perceive  their  faults,  and  yet  feel 

11 


162  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

myself  nearer  to  tnem  than  to  strangers.  Besides,  my 
old  opinions  —  at  least,  the  greater  part  of  them  —  are 
now  in  tatters,  like  a  worn-out  garment. 

But  enough  of  this !  I  notice  with  a  certain  shame 
and  surprise  that  all  I  have  been  writing  has  been  done 
in  order  to  distract  my  thoughts.  Yes,  that  is  true. 
I  speak  about  landscapes,  homesickness,  and  so  forth, 
while  all  my  thoughts  are  at  Ploszow.  I  did  not  want 
to  acknowledge  it,  even  to  myself,  I  feel  restless,  and 
something  seems  to  weigh  me  down.  It  is  very  probable 
that  my  going  there  and  the  getting  over  the  first  meet- 
ing will  be  easier  and  far  simpler  than  I  imagine.  Ex- 
pectancy of  anything  is  always  oppressive.  When  a 
young  lad,  I  had  a  duel ;  and  on  the  eve  of  the  day  I 
felt  troubled.  Then,  too,  I  tried  to  think  of  something 
else,  and  could  not  manage  it.  My  thoughts  are  not  at 
all  tender,  not  even  friendly,  towards  Pani  Kromitzka ; 
but  they  swarm  around  me  like  angry  bees,  and  I  cannot 
drive  them  away. 


17  April. 
I  have  been  to  Ploszow,  and  found  things  very  dif- 
ferent  iadeed  from  what  I  had  pictured  to  myself.  I 
left  Warsaw  at  seven  in  the  morning  in  a  cab,  counting 
I  should  be  in  Ploszow  by  eight.  The  oppressive  feeling 
still  remained  with  me.  I  had  said  to  myself  that  I 
would  not  make  any  plans  about  that  first  meeting,  or 
my  future  bearing  towards  her.  Let  chance  be  my  guide. 
But  I  could  not  help  speculating  how  it  would  be,  —  how 
she  would  greet  me,  what  she  would  try  to  make  me  un- 
derstand, and  what  our  future  relation  to  each  other  would 
be.  Not  having  formed  any  plans  of  my  own,  I  fancied, 
I  do  not  know  why>  that  she  would  want  to  act  accord- 
ing to  a  well-defined  system.  Trying  to  fathom  this,  I 
felt  almost  inimical  towards  her.  Then  again,  at  the 
thought  that  the  meeting  might  cause  her  pain,  I  felt 
something  akin  to  pity,  and  seemed  to  see  her  before  me 


WITHOUT  DOGJklA.  163 

as  she  used  to  be,  I  saw  distinctly  the  low  brow  with 
the  wealth  of  auburn  hair,  the  long  eyelashes,  and  the 
small,  delicate  face.  I  tried  to  guess  how  she  would  be 
dressed.  Memories  came  back  of  words  she  had  said, 
expressions  of  the  face,  graceful  motions,  dresses.  With 
strange  pertinacity,  the  one  memory  remained  with  me, 
—  her  coming  into  the  room  after  she  had  tried  to  dis- 
guise her  emotion  by  applying  powder  to  her  face.  At 
last  these  memories  became  so  vivid  as  to  equal  a  second- 
sight.  "There  she  is  again,"  I  said  to  myself ;  and  in 
order  to  pull  myself  together,  I  began  talking  to  the 
driver,  and  asked  him  whether  he  were  married ;  where- 
upon he  replied  that  without  the  old  woman  at  home, 
there  would  be  no  go,  then  said  something  I  did  not 
hear,  as  1  had  caught  sight  of  the  Ploszow  poplars  in 
the  distance.  I  had  not  paid  any  heed  to  the  time  we 
had  been  on  the  road. 

At  the  sight  of  Ploszow  I  felt  more  troubled  still, 
and  my  eagerness  increased.  I  tried  to  pay  attention 
to  outward  things,  changes  that  had  taken  place  during 
my  absence,  and  look  at  the  new  buildings  on  the  road. 
I  repeated  to  myself  mechanically  that  the  weather  was 
very  fine,  and  the  spring  exceptionally  early  this  year. 
And  indeed,  the  weather  was  magnificent ;  the  morning 
air  was  crisp  and  transparent ;  near  the  cottages  the 
apple-trees,  in  full  bloom,  were  scattering  their  petals 
like  snowflakes  on  the  grass ;  it  was  like  a  long  line  of 
pictures  by  the  modern  school  of  painters.  Wherever 
the  eye  turned,  there  was  that  luminous  ^^/e//i-ai>  in  the 
midst  of  which  moved  the  figures  of  people  working  in 
the  fields  or  near  their  cottages.  I  saw  it  all,  observed 
every  detail ;  but,  strange  to  say,  I  was  not  able  to  take 
it  in,  or  give  myself  up  to  it  altogether.  The  impressions 
had  lost  their  absorbing  power,  and  remained  only  on 
the  surface  of  the  brain,  the  brain  itself  being  full  of 
other  thoughts.  In  this  state  of  divided  attention  I 
approached  Ploszow. 

Presently  the  cool  air  of  the  lime  avenue  fanned  my 


164  WiTHOtT  DOGMA. 

face,  and  I  saw  at  the  other  end,  far  off,  the  windows  of 
the  house.  The  scattered,  futile  thoughts  hammered 
and  knocked  louddr  than  ever  at  my  brain.  I  stopped 
the  driver  from  going  straight  to  the  house,  and  dis- 
missed him,  I  do  not  know  why,  at  the  gate.  Followed 
by  his  thanks,  I  went  on  foot  straight  towards  the  ver- 
anda. I  cannot  explain  to  myself  why  I  felt  so  troubled, 
unless  it  was  that  within  these  well-known  walls  some- 
thing unknown  was  awaiting  me,  which  was  in  close 
connection  with  the  tragic  past.  Crossing  the  court- 
yard, I  felt  such  a  weight  upon  my  chest  that  it  ob- 
structed my  breath.  "  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter 
with  me  ?  "  said  I,  inwardly.  As  I  had  dismissed  the 
cab,  nobody  had  heard  me  coming.  The  hall  was  empty ; 
I  went  in  to  the  dining-room  to  wait  until  the  ladies 
came  down. 

I  knew  they  would  come  soon,  as  the  table  was  laid 
for  breakfast,  and  the  samovar,  whispering  and  growl- 
ing, was  sending  coils  of  steam  aloft.  Again  not  the 
slightest  detail  escaped  my  notice.  I  observed  that  the 
room  was  cool  and  comparatively  dark,  as  the  windows 
faced  the  north.  For  a  moment  my  attention  was  fixed 
on  the  three  luminous  streaks  the  light  from  the  win- 
dows made  upon  the  polished  floor.  I  looked  at  the 
carved  sideboard  I  remembered  since  a  child,  and  then 
recalled  the  conversation  I  had  in  this  same  room  with 
Sniatynski,  and  we  looked  through  the  window  at  his 
wife  and  Aniela,  in  fur  boots,  coming  from  the  hot- 
houses. 

At  last  a  feeling  of  great  solitude  and  sadness  overcame 
me,  and  I  went  close  to  the  window  to  get  more  light  and 
make  further  observations  in  the  garden.  But  all  this  did 
not  restore  my  balance  of  mind.  The  only  real  thought 
my  mind  was  full  of  was  that  I  should  meet  her  in  a  few 
minutes.  There  are  people  who  out  of  fear  are  capable 
of  the  most  heroic  deeds.  With  me  it  is  different.  Fear, 
uncertainty  of  what  may  come  next,  rouses  me  to  anger. 
This  happened  now.     The   difference  between  the   old 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  165 

Aniela  and  the  present  Pani  Kromitzka  impressed  itself 
upon  me  more  forcibly  than  ever.  "  If  you  borrowed  the 
very  moonbeams  for  your  head-dress,  if  you  were  a  hun- 
dred times  more  beautiful  than  ray  fancy  can  paint,  you 
would  be  as  nothing  to  me,  —  less  than  nothing,  because 
an  object  of  aversion."  My  anger  rose  still,  for  I  fancied 
that  she  would  come  to  me  in  order  to  point  out  my 
guilt,  my  wrong-doing ;  that  she  would  be  still  desirable, 
but  unapproachable.  "  We  shall  see,"  I  replied  inwardly, 
under  the  vivid  impression  that  with  this  woman  there 
was  awaiting  me  a  duel ;  a  struggle  in  which  I  should 
lose  and  gain  at  the  same  time,  —  lose  the  haunting  mem- 
ories and  regain  peace.  At  that  moment  I  felt  the  power 
to  overcome  any  obstacles,  repulse  any  attack. 

Then  the  door  opened  quietly,  and  Aniela  came  in. 

At  the  sight  of  her  I  felt  my  brain  in  a  whirl,  and  my 
finger-tips  grew  icy  cold.  The  being  before  me  bore  the 
name  of  Pani  Kromitzka,  but  had  the  sweet,  hundred 
times  beloved  features  and  inexpressible  charm  of  the 
Aniela  I  had  known.  In  the  chaotic  bewilderment  of 
my  brain  there  was  only  one  sound  I  heard  distinctly : 
"Aniela!  Aniela!  Aniela!"  And  she  did  not  see  me, 
or  took  me  for  somebody  else  as  I  stood  against  the 
light.  But  when  I  drew  nearer,  she  raised  her  eyes  and 
stood  still  as  if  turned  into  stone.  I  cannot  even  describe 
the  expression  of  sudden  terror,  confusion,  emotion,  and 
humility  which  shone  in  her  face.  She  had  grown 
white  to  the  lips,  and  I  was  afraid  she  might  faint. 
When  I  took  her  hand  it  felt  as  cold  as  ice.  1  had  ex- 
pected anything  but  that.  I  thought  she  would  let  me 
know  in  some  way  or  other  that  she  was  Pani  Kro- 
mitzka, but  there  was  nothing  of  the  sort.  She  stood 
before  me  moved,  frightened,  my  former  little  Aniela. 
It  was  I  who  had  made  her  unhappy,  —  I  who  was  guilty, 
a  hundred  times  guilty ;  and  at  this  moment  she  looked 
at  me  as  if  she  herself  asked  to  be  forgiven.  The  old  love, 
contrition  for  the  past,  and  pity  overwhelmed  me  to  such 
a  degree  that  I  almost  lost  my  head,  and  thought  I  must 


166  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

take  her  into  my  arms,  and  soothe  her  with  endearing 
words,  as  one  soothes  a  beloved  being.  I  was  so  agitated 
by  the  unexpected  meeting,  not  with  Pani  Kromitzka, 
but  Aniela,  that  I  could  only  press  her  hand  in  silence. 
And  yet  I  felt  obliged  to  say  something ;  therefore, 
pulling  myself  together,  I  said,  as  if  in  somebody  else's 
voice,  — 

"  Did  aunt  not  tell  you  I  was  coming  ?  " 

"Yes;  she  told  me,"  said  Aniela,  with  an  evident 
effort. 

And  then  we  fell  back  into  silence.  I  felt  that  I  ought 
to  ask  after  her  mother,  and  about  herself,  but  could 
not  force  myself  to  do  so.  I  wished  from  my  soul 
somebody  would  come  and  deliver  us  from  this  position. 
Presently  my  aunt  came  in  with  the  young  Doctor 
Chwastowski,  the  agent's  son,  who  for  a  month  past  has 
had  the  care  of  Pani  Celina.  Aniela  slipped  away  to 
pour  out  the  tea,  and  I  began  to  talk  with  my  aunt.  I 
had  recovered  my  presence  of  mind  entirely  when  we 
sat  down  to  breakfast.  I  began  now  to  inquire  after 
Pani  Celina's  health.  My  aunt,  telling  me  about  her, 
appealed  every  moment  to  the  doctor,  who  turned  to  me 
with  that  peculiar  shade  of  superciliousness  with  which  a 
newly  patented  scientist  treats  outsiders,  and  at  the  same 
time  with  the  watchfulness  of  a  democrat  who  is  afraid 
of  slights  where  none  are  intended.  He  appeared  to  me 
very  conceited  ;  and  after  all,  I  treated  him  with  far 
greater  politeness  than  he  exhibited  towards  me.  This 
amused  me  a  little,  and  helped  to  keep  my  thoughts,  which 
the  sight  of  Aniela  confused,  under  control.  From  time 
to  time  I  looked  at  her  across  the  table,  and  repeated  to 
myself:  "The  same  features,  the  same  little  face,  the 
same  low  brow  shaded  by  a  wealth  of  hair ;  it  is  the 
same  Aniela,  almost  a  little  girl,  my  love,  my  happiness ; 
and  now  lost  to  me  forever."  There  was  inexpressible 
sweetness  in  the  sensation,  mingled  with  exquisite  pain. 
Aniela,  too,  had  recovered  from  her  emotion,  but  looked 
still  frightened.     I  tried  to  draw  her  into  conversation, 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  167 

speaking  about  her  mother,  I  was  partly  successful ; 
she  seemed  a  little  more  at  ease,  and  said,  — 

"  Mamma  will  be  very  glad  to  see  you." 

I  permitted  myself  a  doubt  as  far  as  her  mother  was 
concerned,  but  listened  to  her  voice  with  half-closed 
eyes ;  it  was  sweeter  to  me  than  any  music. 

We  were  conversing  more  freely  every  moment.  My 
aunt  was  in  excellent  spirits,  —  first,  because  of  seeing 
me  once  more  at  Ploszow,  and  also  because  she  had  seen 
Clara  and  got  from  her  the  promise  of  a  concert.  When 
leaving  the  artist  she  had  met  two  other  ladies,  pa- 
tronesses of  charitable  institutions,  ascending  the  stair- 
case bent  on  the  same  errand.  They  were  too  late,  and 
that  had  put  her  in  a  high  good-humor.  She  asked  me 
a  great  many  questions  about  Clara,  who  had  made  an 
excellent  impression  upon  her.  Towards  the  end  of 
breakfast,  to  satisfy  my  aunt's  curiosity,  I  had  to  say 
something  about  my  travels.  She  was  amazed  to  hear 
I  had  been  as  far  as  Iceland,  and  asked  what  it  looked 
like  ;  she  then  remarked,  — 

"One  must  be  desperate  to  go  to  such  places  as 
that." 

"  Yes ;  I  did  not  feel  very  cheerful  when  I  went." 

Aniela  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  and  there  was  that 
hunted,  half-frightened  expression  in  her' eyes  again.  If 
she  had  put  her  hand  upon  my  naked  heart  she  could 
not  have  given  it  a  sharper  pull.  The  more  I  had  pre- 
pared myself  for  an  exhibition  of  triumphant  coldness 
and  satisfaction  at  my  disappointment,  the  more  I  felt 
crushed  now  by  that  angelic  compassion.  All  my  calcu- 
lations and  foresight  had  been  put  to  naught.  I  sup- 
posed she  could  not  help  showing  herself  oif  as  a  married 
woman.  And  now  I  had  to  remind  myself  that  she  was 
married ;  but  in  the  recollection  there  was  no  loathing, 
nothing  but  inexpressible  sorrow. 

It  is  in  my  nature  that  in  every  moral  suffering  I  try 
to  reopen  my  wounds.  I  wanted  to  do  that  even  now  by 
speaking  about  her  husband ;  but  I  could  not  do  it.     It 


168  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

seemed  to  me  cruel,  almost  a  profanation.  Instead  of 
that  I  said  that  I  should  like  to  see  her  mother,  if  she 
were  able  to  receive  me.  Aniela  went  to  see,  and  pres- 
ently came  back  and  said,  — 

"  Mamma  will  be  pleased  to  see  you." 

We  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the  house,  my  aunt  go- 
ing with  us.  I  wanted  to  say  a  kind  word  to  Aniela  so 
as  to  put  her  more  at  ease  ;  but  my  aunt  was  in  the  way ; 
presently  I  thought  it  would  be  even  better  if  I  said  it 
within  my  aunt's  hearing.  Near  the  door,  leading  into 
Pani  Celina's  rooms,  I  stopped  and,  turning  to  Aniela, 
said,  — 

*'■  Give  me  your  hand,  my  dear  little  sister." 

Aniela  put  her  hand  into  mine ;  I  saw  her  eyes  light- 
ing up  with  gratitude  for  the  words  "  little  sister,"  and  the 
pressure  of  her  hand  seemed  to  say  :  — 

"  Oh  !  let  us  be  friends  !  let  us  forgive  each  other  !  " 

"  I  hope  you  two  will  agree  together,"  muttered  my 
aunt. 

"  We  shall,  we  shall ;  he  is  so  good  !  "  replied  Aniela. 

And  truly,  my  heart  was  very  full  of  good-will  at  that 
moment. 

Entering  Pani  Celina's  room,  I  greeted  her  very  cor- 
dially, but  she  replied  with  a  certain  constraint,  and  I 
am  sure  she  would  have  received  me  with  still  greater 
coldness  had  she  not  feared  to  offend  my  aunt.  But  I 
was  not  hurt  by  this ;  her  resentment  is  quite  justifiable. 
Maybe,  in  her  mind,  she  connects  me  with  the  loss  of  her 
estate,  and  thinks  all  this  would  not  have  happened  if  I 
had  acted  differently.  I  found  her  much  changed.  For 
some  time  she  has  been  confined  to  her  invalid  chair,  on 
which  they  wheel  her  on  fine  days  into  the  garden.  Her 
face,  always  delicate,  looked  as  if  moulded  in  wax.  There 
are  still  traces  that  show  how  beautiful  she  must  have  been, 
and  at  the  same  time  so  unhappy. 

I  asked  after  her  health,  and  expressed  the  hope  that, 
with  the  return  of  the  fine  weather,  she  would  soon  re- 
cover her  strength.    She  listened  with  a  sad  smile,  and 


"WITHOUT  DOGMA.  169 

shook  her  head;  two  tears  rolled  silently  down  her 
face. 

Then,  fixing  her  sad  eyes  upon  me,  she  said,  — 

"  You  know  Gluchow  has  been  sold  ?  " 

This  evidently  is  the  thought  ever  present,  —  her  con- 
tinual sorrow  and  gnawing  trouble. 

When  Aniela  heard  the  question  she  grew  very  red. 
It  was  a  painful  blush,  because  a  blush  of  shame  and 
sorrow. 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard,"  I  said  quickly.  "  Perhaps  it  can 
be  recovered  ;  if  so,  nothing  is  lost ;  and  if  not,  you  must 
submit  to  God's  will." 

Aniela  cast  a  grateful  glance  at  me,  and  Pani  Celina 
said,  — 

"  I  have  lost  all  hope." 

It  was  not  true  ;  she  still  clung  to  the  delusion  that 
the  estate  might  be  recovered.  Her  eyes  looked 
hungrily  at  me,  waiting  for  the  words  which  might 
confirm  her  secret  hopes.  I  resolved  to  gratify  her 
wish,  and  said, — 

"■  It  seems  to  have  been  a  case  of  necessity,  and  I  do 
not  see  how  any  one  can  be  blamed  for  it.  Yet  there  are 
no  obstacles  which  cannot  be  overcome  where  there  is  a 
will  and  adequate  means.  Sometimes  it  has  happened 
that  a  sale  has  been  invalidated  in  law  from  some  omis- 
sion of  formality." 

By  the  bye,  this  was  not  strictly  true  ;  but  I  saw  it 
was  balm  to  Pani  Celina's  sore  heart.  I  had  also  stood 
up  for  Kromitzki,  without  mentioning  his  name,  which 
neither  of  the  others  had  done  in  my  presence. 

To  say  the  truth  it  was  not  generosity  which  prompted 
me,  but  rather  a  desire  to  conciliate  Aniela,  and  show 
myself  before  her  in  the  light  of  goodness  and  nobility. 

And  Aniela  was  grateful ;  for,  when  we  had  left  the 
room,  she  came  out  to  me,  and,  stretching  out  her  hand, 
said,  — 

"  Thank  you  for  being  so  good  to  mamma." 

For  all  answer  I  raised  her  hand  to  my  lips. 


ITO  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

My  aunt  too  seemed  touched  by  my  goodness.  1  left 
her  and,  lighting  a  cigar,  went  into  the  park  for  a  quiet 
stroll  to  collect  my  thoughts  and  impressions  ;  but  I 
met  there  the  young  doctor  who  was  taking  his  morning 
constitutional.  As  I  wished  to  conciliate  every  one  at 
Ploszow,  I  went  up  to  him,  and  asked  him,  with  the 
special  regard  due  to  science  and  authority,  what  he 
thought  about  Pani  Celina's  chances  of  regaining  her 
health.  I  saw  that  this  flattered  him  a  little,  and  gradu- 
ally he  began  to  lose  some  of  his  democratic  stiffness,  and 
enlarged  upon  the  theme  of  Pani  Celina's  illness  with 
the  ready  eagerness  of  a  young  scientist  who  has  had 
no  time  yet  to  doubt  his  powers.  In  speaking,  he  used 
every  now  and  then  Latin  expressions,  as  if  addressing  a 
colleague.  His  strong,  healthy  frame,  a  certain  power  of 
speech  and  eye  impressed  me  favorably.  I  saw  in  him  a 
type  of  that  new  generation  Sniatynski  at  one  time  had 
spoken  of  to  me.  Walking  along  the  avenues,  we  had 
one  of  the  so-called  intellectual  conversations,  which  con- 
sist a  great  deal  in  quoting  names  of  books  and  authors. 
Chwastowski  is  thoroughly  acquainted  with  certain  sub- 
jects ;  but  I  have  read  more,  and  this  seemed  to  astonish 
him  not  a  little.  At  moments  he  looked  almost  vexed, 
as  if  he  considered  it  an  encroachment  upon  his  own  ter- 
ritory that  I,  an  aristocrat,  should  know  sO'  much  about 
certain  books  and  authors.  But  then  again  I  won  his 
approbation  by  the  liberality  of  my  opinions.  My 
liberality  consists  merely  in  a  kind  of  tolerance  for 
other  people's  views,  and  looking  upon  them  without 
party  feeling ;  and  that  from  a  man  of  my  position  and 
wealth  was  sufficient  to  win  over  the  young  radical.  At 
the  end  of  our  conversation  we  felt  towards  each  other  as 
men  do  who  have  understood  each  other,  and  agreed  on 
many  points. 

Most  likely  I  shall  be  the  exception  of  the  rule  as  re- 
gards Doctor  Chwastowski.  As  in  my  country  every 
nobleman  has  his  particular  Jew  in  whom  he  believes, 
—  though  he  dislikes  the   race  in  general,  —  so  every 


WITHOUT  DOGJIA.  171 

democrat  has  his  aristocrat  for  whom  he  feels  a  spe- 
cial weakness. 

When  going  away  I  asked  Doctor  Chwastowski  about 
his  brothers.  He  said  that  one  of  them  had  a  brewery 
at  Ploszow,  which  I  knew  already  from  my  aunt's  letter ; 
a  second  had  a  bookshop  at  Warsaw ;  and  a  third,  who 
had  been  at  a  mercantile  school,  had  gone  as  assistant 
with  Pan  Kromitzki  to  the  East. 

"  It  is  the  brewer  who  has  the  best  of  it  just  now,"  he 
said  ;  "  but  we  all  work,  and  in  time  shall  win  good  po- 
sitions. It  was  lucky  our  father  lost  his  fortune ;  other- 
wise every  one  of  us  would  sit  on  his  bit  of  land  '  glebse 
adscripti,'  and  in  the  end  lose  it  as  my  father  did." 

In  spite  of  the  preoccupation  of  my  mind  I  listened  with 
a  certain  interest.  "  There  are,  then,"  I  said  to  myself, 
people  that  are  neither  over-civilized  nor  steeped  in  igno- 
rance. There  are  those  that  can  do  something  and  thus 
form  the  intermediate,  healthy  link  between  decay  and 
barbarism."  It  is  possible  that  this  social  strata  mostly 
exists  in  bigger  towns,  where  it  is  continually  recruited 
by  the  influx  of  the  sons  of  bankrupt  noblemen,  who 
adapt  themselves  to  burgher  traditions  of  work,  and  bring 
to  it  strong  nerves  and  muscles.  I  then  recalled  what 
Sniatynski  once  said  when  I  left  him ;  "  From  such  as 
you  nothing  good  can  come ;  your  fathers  must  first  lose 
all  they  have,  else  even  your  grandsons  will  not  work." 
And  here  are  Chwastowski's  sons  who  take  to  it,  and 
push  on  in  the  world  by  help  of  their  own  strong  shoul- 
ders. I,  too,  perhaps,  had  I  no  fortune,  should  have  to 
do  something,  and  should  acquire  that  energy  of  de- 
cision in  which  I  have  been  wanting  all  my  life. 

The  doctor  left  me  presently  as  he  had  another  patient 
at  Ploszow,  a  young  cleric  from  the  Warsaw  seminary, 
the  son  of  one  of  the  Ploszow  peasants.  He  is  in  the 
last  stage  of  consumption.  My  aunt  has  given  him  a 
room  in  one  of  the  out-buildings,  where  she  and  Aniela 
look  after  him.  When  I  heard  of  this  I  went  to  pay 
him  a  visit,  and  instead  of  the  dying  man  I  expected  to 


172  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

see,  I  found  a  young,  rather  thin-looking  lad,  but  bright 
and  full  of  life.  The  doctor  says  it  is  the  last  flicker  of 
the  lamp.  The  young  cleric  was  nursed  by  his  mother, 
who,  upon  seeing  me,  overwhelmed  me  with  a  shower  of 
gratitude  copious  enough  to  drown  myself  in. 

Aniela  did  not  visit  the  sick  man  that  day,  but  remained 
with  her  mother.  I  saw  her  only  at  dinner,  at  which  also 
the  mother  was  present  in  her  invalid's  chair.  It  is  only 
natural  that  Aniela  should  devote  her  time  to  her  mother, 
and  yet  I  fancy  she  does  it  partly  to  avoid  being  alone 
with  me.  In  time  our  mutual  relations  will  establish 
themselves  upon  an  easier  footing,  but  I  quite  under- 
stand that  at  first  it  will  be  a  little  awkward.  Aniela 
has  so  much  intelligence  of  heart,  so  much  goodness  and 
sensibility,  that  she  cannot  look  upon  our  present  posi- 
tion with  indifference,  and  has  not  worldly  experience 
enough  to  preserve  an  appearance  of  ease.  This  prac- 
tice comes  with  later  years,  when  the  live  spring  of  feel- 
ings begins  to  dry  up  and  the  mind  acquires  a  certain 
conventionality. 

I  had  let  Aniela  see  there  was  no  resentment  in  my 
heart  towards  her,  and  I  shall  not  allude  even  to  the 
past,  and  for  that  reason  did  not  try  to  see  her  alone. 
In  the  evening  during  tea  we  discussed  general  topics. 
My  aunt  questioned  me  about  Clara,  who  interests  her 
very  much.  I  told  her  all  I  knew  about  her,  and  from 
that  we  drifted  into  conversation  about  artists  generally. 
My  aunt  looks  upon  them  as  people  sent  into  the  world 
by  kind  Providence  to  give  performances  for  the  benefit 
of  charitable  institutions.  I  maintained  that  artists,  pro- 
vided their  hearts  were  pure  and  not  filled  with  vanity 
and  love  of  self,  might  be  the  happiest  creatures  in  the 
world,  as  they  are  always  in  contact  with  something  in- 
finite and  absolutely  perfect.  From  life  comes  all  evil, 
from  art  only  happiness.  This  was,  indeed,  my  poiiit  of 
view,  supported  by  observation.  Aniela  agreed  with  me, 
and  if  I  took  note  of  the  conversation  it  is  because  I 
was  struck  by  a  remark  of  Aniela's,  simple  in  itself,  but 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  173 

to  me  full  of  meaning.  When  we  spoke  about  the  con- 
tentment arising  from  art  she  said :  "  Music  is  a  great 
consoler." 

I  saw  in  this  involuntary  confession  that  she  is  un- 
happy, and  is  conscious  of  it.  Besides,  in  regard  to  that, 
I  never  had  any  doubts.  Even  the  face  is  not  the  face 
of  a  happy  woman.  If  anything,  it  is  more  beautiful 
than  before,  —  apparently  calm,  even  serene ;  but  there 
is  none  of  that  light  which  springs  from  inward  happi- 
ness, and  there  is  a  certain  preoccupation  that  was  not 
there  formerly.  In  the  course  of  the  day  I  noticed  that 
her  temples  have  a  slight  yellow  tint  like  that  of  ivory. 
I  looked  at  her  with  an  ever  renewed  delight,  comparing 
her  to  the  Aniela  of  the  past.  I  could  not  get  enough  of 
this  exchange  of  memories  with  reality.  There  is  some- 
thing so  irresistibly  attractive  in  Aniela  that  had  I  never 
seen  her  before,  if  she  were  among  thousands  of  beauti- 
ful women  and  I  were  told  to  choose,  I  should  go  straight 
to  her  and  say:  "This  one  and  no  other."  She  answers 
so  exactly  to  the  feminine  prototype  every  man  carries 
in  his  imagination.  I  fancy  she  must  have  noticed  that 
I  watched  and  admired  her. 

I  left  at  dusk.  I  was  so  shaken  by  the  sensations  of 
the  day,  so  utterly  different  from  all  my  preconceived 
ideas,  that  I  had  lost  the  power  of  dissecting  my 
thoughts.  I  expected  to  find  Pani  Kromitska,  and  found 
Aniela;  I  put  it  down  once  more.  God  only  knows 
what  will  be  the  consequence  of  this  for  us  both. 
When  I  think  of  it  I  have  the  sensation  of  a  great  hap- 
piness, and  also  a  slight  disappointment.  And  yet  I  was 
right,  theoretically,  in  expecting  those  psychical  changes 
which  necessarily  take  place  in  a  woman  after  she  is 
married,  and  I  might  easily  be  led  to  think  she  would 
show  in  some  way  that  she  was  glad  she  had  not  chosen 
me.  There  is  not  another  woman  who  would  have  denied 
herself  that  satisfaction  of  vanity.  And  as  I  know  myself, 
my  sensitiveness  and  my  nerves,  I  could  take  my  oath  on 
it,  that  if  such  had  been  the  case  I  should  have  been  now 


174  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

full  of  bitterness,  anger,  and  sarcasm, — but  cured.  In 
the  mean  while,  things  have  fallen  out  differently,  —  al- 
together differently.  She  is  a  being  of  such  unfathom- 
able goodness  and  simplicity  that  the  measure  I  have  for 
goodness  is  not  large  enough  for  her. 

What  will  happen  next,  what  will  happen  to  me  or 
to  her,  1  cannot  say.  My  life  might  have  run  on  quietly 
towards  that  ocean  where  all  life  is  absorbed, — now  it 
may  run  like  a  cataract  down  to  a  precipice.  Let  it  be  so. 
At  the  worst  I  can  only  be  a  little  more  unhappy,  that  is 
all.  Until  now  I  liave  not  been  lying  on  a  bed  of  roses, 
with  that  consciousness  of  my  useless  life  continually 
before  me. 

I  do  not  remember ;  somebody,  was  it  my  father  ?  said 
that  there  must  always  be  something  growing  within  us, 
that  such  is  the  law  of  nature.  It  is  true.  Even  in  the 
desert  the  forces  of  life  hidden  in  the  depth  bring  forth 
palms  in  the  oasis. 


21  AprU. 

T  live  nominally  at  Warsaw,  but  have  spent  four  con- 
secutive days  at  Ploszow.  Pani  Celina  is  better,  but  the 
cleric  Latyzs  died  the  day  before  yesterday.  Doctor 
Chwastowski  says  it  was  a  splendid  case  of  pulmonary 
consumption,  and  with  difficulty  conceals  his  satisfaction 
that  he  foretold  the  exact  course  of  the  disease  up  to  the 
last  hour.  We  had  been  to  see  the  young  man  twelve 
hours  before  he  died.  He  was  quite  merry  with  us,  and 
full  of  hope  because  the  fever  had  left  him,  which  was 
only  a  sign  of  weakness.  Yesterday,  when  sitting  with 
Aniela  on  the  veranda,  the  cleric's  mother  came  up  to  tell 
us  about  his  death,  in  her  own  quaint  way,  in  which  sor- 
row blended  with  quiet  submission  to  the  inevitable.  In 
my  pity  for  her,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  curiosity,  for 
up  to  now  I  had  not  much  occasion  to  see  anything  of  the 
inner  life  of  the  peasants.     What  quaint  expressions  they 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  175 

use !  I  tried  to  remember  her  words  in  order  to  note 
them  down. 

She  embraced  my  knees,  then  Aniela' s,  after  which 
she  put  the  outside  of  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  and  be- 
gan to  wail :  "  0  little  Jesus,  dear  —  0  Maria,  holiest 
of  Virgins  !  He  is  dead,  my  poor  lamb,  dead !  He  was 
eager  to  see  the  Lord  face  to  face ;  more  eager  than  to 
stop  with  his  little  father  and  mother!  Nothing  could 
hold  him  back,  not  even  the  ladies'  cares  !  Wine  he  had 
in  plenty,  and  good  food,  and  that  could  not  save  him ; 
O  little  Jesus,  dear !  0  holiest  of  Virgins !  0  Jesus 
mine ! " 

In  her  voice  there  was  certainly  a  mother's  sorrow ! 
but  what  struck  me  most  was  the  modulation  of  the 
voice,  as  if  set  to  some  local  music.  I  never  heard  be- 
fore the  peasants  lament  their  dead,  but  I  am  quite  sure 
they  all  do  it  in  more  or  less  the  same  way,  as  if  accord- 
ing to  certain  rules. 

Tears  were  trembling  on  Aniela's  eyelashes,  and  with 
that  peculiar  goodness  only  women  are  capable  of,  she 
began  to  inquire  into  the  details  of  his  death,  guessing 
that  it  would  soothe  the  poor  woman  to  speak  about  it. 

And  in  fact  she  began  at  once  most  eagerly  :  — 

"  Wnen  the  priest  had  left  him  I  said  thus  :  '  Whether 
you  die  or  not  is  in  God's  hands !  You  are  nicely  pre- 
pared now,  so  lay  ye  down  and  go  to  sleep.'  Says  he : 
'  Very  well,  little  mother,'  and  fell  in  a  doze,  and  I  too ; 
as,  not  reproaching  the  Lord  with  it,  I  had  not  had  a 
proper  sleep  for  three  nights.  At  the  first  crow  my  old 
man  comes  in  and  wakes  me  ;  thus  we  were  both  sitting 
there,  and  he  still  asleep.  I  says  to  the  old  man :  '  Is 
he  gone  ? '  and  he  says,  '  Happen  and  he  is  gone.'  I 
pulled  him  by  the  hand ;  he  opened  his  eyes  and  said : 
*  I  feel  better  now.'  Then  he  remained  quite  still  for 
about  five  paters  and  aves,  and  smiled  toward  the 
ceiling.  This  made  me  angry,  and  I  says :  *  Oh,  you 
good-for-nothing,  how  can  you  laugh  at  my  misery  ? 
But  he  only  smiled  at  death,  not  at  my  misery,  for  he 


176  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

began  breathing  very  hard,  and  that  was  all  he  did  until 
the  sun  rose." 

She  began  moaning  again,  and  then  invited  us  to  come 
and  see  the  body,  as  he  was  dressed  already,  and  looked 
as  beautiful  as  a  picture.  Aniela  wanted  to  go  at  once, 
but  I  held  her  back ;  besides,  the  woman  had  already  for- 
gotten all  about  it,  and  began  now  lamenting  her  poverty. 
Her  husband,  it  seems,  had  been  a  well-to-do  peasant 
proprietor,  but  they  had  spent  every  bit  of  money  upon 
their  son's  education.  Acre  after  acre  had  been  bought 
by  the  neighbors,  and  at  present  they  had  nothing  but 
the  hut,  —  no  land  whatever.  One  thousand  two  hun- 
dred roubles  he  had  cost  them.  They  had  hoped  to  find 
a  shelter  for  their  old  age  with  him  at  a  parsonage,  and 
now  God  had  taken  him.  The  old  woman  declared,  with 
all  the  stoicism  of  the  peasant,  that  they  had  already 
made  their  plans,  and  would  go  a  begging.  She  seemed 
not  afraid  of  it,  and  spoke  of  it  with  a  kind  of  half-con- 
cealed satisfaction.  She  was  only  afraid  the  community 
might  raise  difficulties  about  the  certificate,  which,  for 
some  reason  unknown  to  me,  seemed  to  be  necessary  for 
the  new  profession.  Hundreds  of  realistic  details  min- 
gled with  the  calling  upon  the  Lord  Jesus,  the  Holy  Vir- 
gin, and  laments  over  the  dead  son.  Aniela  went  into  the 
house,  and  returned  presently  with  some  money  for  the 
woman.  I  arrested  her  hand ;  another  idea,  I  thought 
good  at  the  time,  had  crossed  my  mind. 

"  So  you  spent  a  thousand  two  hundred  roubles  on  your 
son  ?  "  I  said  to  the  woman. 

"  That's  so,  please  the  gracious  Pan.  We  thought 
when  he  got  his  church  we  would  go  and  live  with  him. 
The  Almighty  willed  it  otherwise ;  no  church  for  us  now, 
but  the  church  door  "  (place  where  beggars  sit). 

"  I  will  give  you  the  thousand  two  hundred  roubles ; 
you  can  buy  some  land  if  you  like,  and  start  fresh 
again." 

I  should  have  given  it  at  once,  but  had  not  enough 
money  by  me ;  I  intended  to  take  it  from  my  aunt,  and 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  177 

told  the  woman  to  come  back  for  it  in  an  hour.  She 
stared  at  me  with  wide-open  eyes,  without  saying  a  word, 
and  then  with  a  cry  fell  down  at  my  feet.  But  I  got  rid 
of  her  and  her  gratitude  very  soon,  as  she  was  in  a  hurry 
to  be  olf  to  tell  her  husband  the  good  news. 

I  remained  alone  with  Aniela,  who  seemed  moved 
deeply,  and  who  repeated :  — 

"  How  good  you  are  !  how  good  you  are  ! " 

"  There  is  not  much  goodness  in  it,"  I  said  in  a  careless 
manner.  "  I  did  not  do  it  for  these  people  I  have  seen 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  I  did  it  because  you  care 
for  them,  —  to  please  you."  It  was  true  ;  they  did  not  in- 
terest me  more  than  any  other  people  would  in  the  same 
position,  but  I  would  have  given  ten  times  as  much  to 
please  Aniela.  I  said  it  on  purpose,  as  words  like  these 
said  to  a  woman  carry  a  deep  meaning.  It  is  almost  the 
same  as  if  I  told  her,  "  I  would  do  anything  for  you,  be- 
cause you  are  everything  to  me."  And,  moreover,  no 
woman  can  defend  herself  against  a  tacit  confession  such 
as  this,  or  has  any  right  to  be  offended.  I  had  disguised 
the  meaning,  treating  it  as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world ;  but  Aniela  perceived  the  drift,  and  lowering  her 
eyes  in  evident  confusion,  said :  "  I  must  go  back  now  to 
mamma,"  and  left  me  alone. 

I  am  quite  aware  that  in  acting  thus  I  introduce  a  dis- 
turbing element  into  Aniela's  soul.  I  perceive,  too,  with 
surprise,  that  if,  on  the  one  hand,  my  conscience  cries  out 
against  this  wilful  destroying  of  the  peace  of  the  one 
being  for  whom  I  would  give  my  life,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  causes  me  a  savage  delight,  as  if  thereby  I  satisfied 
man's  innate  instinct  of  destruction.  I  have  also  the 
conviction  that  no  consciousness  of  evil,  or  sting  of  con- 
science, will  stop  me.  I  am  too  headstrong  to  let  any- 
thing stand  in  my  way,  especially  in  presence  of  that 
powerful,  inexpressible  spell  she  has  cast  upon  me.  I 
am  now  as  that  Indian  who  threw  away  his  oar,  and 
gave  himself  up  to  fate.  I  do  not  reflect  now  that  it  was 
my  fault,  that  all  might  have  been  so  different,  and  that 

12 


ITS  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

I  had  only  to  stretch  out  my  hand  to  secure  the  happiness 
I  am  now  yearning  for  in  vain.  But  it  could  not  be 
otherwise.  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  genera- 
tions which  had  lost  all  vital  power,  have  made  nje 
what  I  am  ;  that  nothing  remains  but  to  cast  awaj'  the 
oars  and  let  myself  drift  with  tlie  current. 

This  morning  we  three  —  my  aunt,  Aniela,  and  I  — 
went  to  the  funeral  of  the  young  cleric. 

It  was  a  strange  sight,  this  village  procession  headed 
by  the  priest,  the  coffin  on  a  cart,  followed  by  a  crowd  of 
peasants,  men  and  women  who  were  singing  a  tune  sad 
and  weird  as  if  set  to  some  Chaldean  music.  At  the 
furthest  end,  the  men  and  women  were  talking  to  each 
other  in  a  drawling,  half-sleepy  way.  Going  along, 
among  the  rowan  trees,  the  procession  came  now  and 
then  into  the  glare  of  the  sun,  and  then  the  kerchiefs 
flashed  into  flames  of  blue,  and  red,  and  yellow,  which 
but  for  the  coffin  and  the  incense  of  juniper  berries,  made 
the  procession  rather  look  like  a  wedding  than  a  funeral. 
Death  does  not  seem  to  make  much  impression  upon  the 
rustic  mind ;  perhaps  they  regard  it  in  the  light  of  an 
everlasting  holiday.  As  we  stood  by  the  open  grave,  I 
noticed  their  faces  following  the  ceremony  with  concen- 
trated attention  and  curiosity  ;  but  I  saw  no  trace  of 
thoughtfulness  or  reflection  at  the  inexorable  end,  after 
which  begins  the  great,  terrible  Unknown. 

I  looked  at  Aniela  as  she  stooped  for  a  handful  of  soil 
to  throw  upon  the  lowered  coffin.  She  was  paler  than 
usual,  and  with  the  sun  shining  upon  her  I  could  read 
the  transparent  features  as  an  open  book.  I  was  certain 
she  was  thinking  of  her  own  death.  To  me  it  seemed 
simply  monstrous,  a  horrible  improbability,  that  this  face 
so  full  of  expression,  so  full  of  life  and  charming  indi- 
viduality, should  at  some  time  be  stony  white  and  remain 
in  eternal  darkness. 

And  as  if  a  sudden  frost  had  nipped  all  my  thoughts, 
I  grew  suddenly  conscious  that  the  first  ceremony  I  as- 
sisted at  with  Aniela  was  a  funeral.    As  a  person  in  long 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  179 

sickness,  having  lost  faith  in  medicine,  turns  to  quack 
doctors  and  -wise  women,  so  the  sick  soul,  doubting  every- 
thing, still  clings  to  certain  superstitions. 

Probably  no  one  is  so  near  the  gulf  of  mysticism  as  the 
absolute  sceptic.  Those  who  have  lost  faith  in  religious 
and  sociological  ideals,  those  whose  belief  in  the  power 
of  science  and  the  human  intellect  is  shaken,  that  whole 
mass  of  highly  cultured  people,  uncertain  of  their  way, 
deprived  of  all  dogmas,  hopelessly  struggling  in  the  dark, 
drift  more  and  more  towards  mysticism.  It  seems  to 
spring  up  everywhere,  —  the  usual  reaction  of  a  society 
whose  life  is  based  upon  positivism,  the  overthrow  of 
ideals,  empty  pleasures,  and  soulless  striving  after  gain. 
The  human  spirit  begins  to  burst  its  shell,  which  is  too 
narrow,  too  much  like  a  stock  exchange.  One  epoch 
draws  to  an  end,  and  then  appears  a  simultaneous  evolu- 
tion in  all  directions.  It  has  struck  me  often  with  amaze- 
ment that,  for  instance,  the  more  recent  great  writers 
seem  not  to  know  how  very  close  upon  mysticism  they 
are.  Some  of  them  are  conscious  of  it,  and  confess  so 
openly.  In  every  book  I  opened  lately,  I  found,  not  the 
human  soul,  will,  and  personal  passions,  but  merely 
fatal  forces  with  all  the  characteristics  of  terrible  be- 
ings, independent  of  personal  manifestations,  living  alone 
within  themselves,  like  Goethe's  "Mother." 

As  regards  myself,  I  too  come  near  the  brink.  I  see 
it  and  am  not  afraid.  The  abyss  attracts  ;  personally  it 
attracts  me  so  much  that  if  I  could  I  would  go  to  the 
very  bottom,  and  will  some  time  when  I  am  able. 


28  April. 

I  intoxicate  myself  with  the  life  at  Ploszow,  the  daily 
sight  of  Aniela,  and  forget  that  she  belongs  to  somebody 
else.  Kromitzki,  who  is  somewhere  at  Baku,  or  further 
still,  appears  to  me  as  something  unreal,  a  being  deprived 
of  real  existence,  something  bad  that  might  come  down 
upon  us,  as  for  instance,  death,  but  of  which  one  does  not 


180  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

tliink  continually.  But  yesterday  something  happened  to 
bring  him  before  my  mind.  It  was  a  sujall  and  apparently 
most  natural  incident.  Aniela  received  at  breakfast  two 
letters.  My  aunt  asked  whether  they  were  from  her  hus- 
band, and  she  replied,  ''  Yes."  Hearing  that,  I  felt  the 
sensation  ^a  condemned  man  may  feel  when  they  rouse 
him  from  a  sweet  dream  in  order  to  tell  him  to  have  his 
hair  cut  for  the  guillotine.  I  saw  my  whole  misfortune 
more  distinctly  than  ever  before,  and  the  sensation  re- 
mained with  me  the  whole  day,  especially  as  my  aunt, 
quite  unconsciously,  of  course,  was  bent  upon  torturing 
me  further.  Aniela  wanted  to  put  off  the  reading  of  the 
letters,  but  my  aunt  insisted  upon  her  opening  them,  and 
presently  inquired  how  Kromitzki  was. 
' '  Thank  you,  aunty,  he  is  very  well." 
"And  how  are  his  affairs  going  on  ?  " 
"  Thank  God  !  he  writes  that  everything  prospers  be- 
yond expectation." 

"  When  does  he  think  of  coming  back  ?  " 
"  He  says  as  soon  as  he  can  possibly  manage." 
And  I,  with  my  sensitiveness,  had  to  listen  to  these 
questions  and  answers.  If  my  aunt  and  Aniela  had 
started  unexpectedly  a  quite  improbable  cynical  conver- 
sation it  could  not  have  shocked  me  more.  The  first 
time  since  my  arrival  at  Ploszow  I  felt  something  like 
resentment  towards  Aniela.  "Have  a  little  mercy  at 
least,  and  do  not  speak  of  that  man  in  my  presence ; 
do  not  return  thanks  for  being  asked  after  him,  and  say 
'  Thank  God  ! '  because  he  is  prosperous,"  I  thought.  In 
the  mean  time  she  had  opened  the  second  letter,  and  look- 
ing at  the  date,  said :  "  It  has  been  written  at  an  earlier 
date  ;  "  then  began  to  read.  I  looked  at  the  bowed  head, 
the  parting  of  the  hair,  the  drooping  lashes  —  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  the  reading  lasted  very  long.  I 
thought  what  a  world  of  mutual  interests  and  aims 
bound  these  two  together,  and  that  for  some  indis- 
pensable reason  they  must  feel  that  they  belonged  to 
each  other.      I  felt  that  I  had  no  part  in  it,  and  that 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  181 

by  force  of  circumstances  I  should  always  be  outside 
her  life  even  if  I  won  her  love.  Up  to  now  I  had  felt 
the  depth  of  my  misery  as  one  sees  the  depth  of  a  preci- 
pice veiled  by  clouds.  Now  the  mist  lifted,  I  looked 
down  and  comprehended  its  whole  extent. 

My  nature  is  so  constituted  that  under  great  presure 
it  resists.  Up  to  the  present  my  love  had  not  dared  to 
ask  for  anything,  but  at  this  moment  hatred  began  to 
clamor  loudly  for  the  abolition  of  merciless  laws,  those 
ties  and  bondages.  Aniela  did  not  read  many  minutes, 
but  during  that  time  I  ran  through  a  whole  gamut  of 
tortures,  because  other  thoughts  relating  to  my  self- 
analysis  and  criticism  were  haunting  me.  I  said  to  my- 
self that  the  agitation,  the  very  bitterness  I  felt,  were 
nothing  but  the  ridiculous  characteristics  of  female  ill- 
humor.  How  is  it  possible  to  live  with  nerves  such  as 
mine  ?  If  such  a  simple  thing  as  a  letter  from  the  hus- 
band to  his  wife  makes  you  lose  your  balance,  what  will 
happen  when  he  himself  comes  to  claim  her  ? 

I  said  to  myself :  '•'  I  will  kill  him  ! "  and  at  the  same 
time  I  felt  the  ridiculousness  and  folly  of  the  answer. 

Aniela  having  finished  her  letters  noticed  at  once  that 
something  was  amiss,  and  looked  at  me  with  troubled 
eyes.  Hers  is  one  of  those  sweet  dispositions  that  can- 
not bear  to  see  unfriendly  faces,  or  live  in  an  atmosphere 
of  cold  displeasure.  This  springs  from  a  great  tenderness 
of  heart.  I  remember  how  uneasy  she  used  to  be  when 
first  she  witnessed  the  disputes  between  my  aunt  and 
Chwastowzki.  Now  she  was  evidently  ill  at  ease.  She 
began  to  speak  about  the  concert  and  Clara,  but  her  eyes 
seemed  to  say :  "  What  have  I  done,  what  is  the  matter 
with  you  ?  "  I  merely  replied  by  a  cold  glance,  not  be- 
ing able  to  forgive  her  either  the  letters  or  her  conversa- 
tion with  my  aunt.  After  breakfast  I  rose  at  once  and 
said  I  was  obliged  to  go  back  to  Warsaw. 

My  aunt  wanted  me  to  stop  to  dinner ;  after  which,  ac- 
cording to  our  agreement,  we  were  to  start  together  for 
the  concert.    But  I  pleaded  some  business  j  the  truth 


182  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

was  I  wanted  to  be  alone.  I  gave  orders  for  the  carriage 
to  be  ready,  and  then  my  aunt  remarked :  — 

"  I  should  like  to  show  some  gratitude  to  Miss  Hilst, 
and  thought  of  inviting  her  to  Ploszow  for  the  day." 

Evidently  my  aunt  considers  an  invitation  to  Ploszow 
such  a  great  reward  that  she  doubted  whether  it  would 
not  be  out  of  all  proportion. 

After  a  moment's  pause  she  began  again  :  — 

"  If  I  were  quite  sure  that  she  is  of  a  proper  standing." 

"  Miss  Hilst  is  a  personal  friend  of  the  queen  of  Kou- 
mania,"  I  replied,  a  little  impatiently ;  "  and  if  there 
be  any  honor,  it  will  be  altogether  on  our  side." 

"  Well,  well,"  muttered  my  aunt. 

"  You  will  come  with  us  to  the  concert  ?  "  I  said,  turn- 
ing to  Aniela. 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  I  shall  have  to  remain  with 
mamma ;  and  besides,  I  have  some  letters  to  write." 

"  Oh !  if  it  is  a  question  of  wifely  tenderness  I  will 
not  insist." 

This  ironical  remark  gave  me  a  momentary  relief. 
"Let  her  be  aware  that  I  am  jealous,"  I  thought ;  "she 
herself,  her  mother,  and  my  aunt  belong  to  those  women 
of  the  angelic  kind,  who  do  not  believe  there  can  be  any 
evil  in  the  world.  Let  her  understand  that  I  love  her, 
become  familiar  with  the  thought,  troubled  by  it,  and 
fight  it.  To  bring  into  her  soul  a  strange,  decomposing 
element,  a  ferment  like  this,  is  half  the  battle.  We  shall 
see  what  will  happen  afterwards." 

It  was  a  momentary  but  great  relief,  and  very  much 
like  a  wicked  delight.  But  presently,  when  alone  in  the 
carriage,  I  felt  angry  with  myself  and  disgusted,  — ■  dis- 
gusted because  I  became  conscious  of  the  littleness  of  all 
I  had  thought  and  felt,  based  as  it  was  upon  overstrung 
and  fanciful  nerves  worthy  an  hysterical  woman,  not  a 
man.  It  was  a  heavy  journey,  far  heavier  than  the  one 
when  after  my  return  from  abroad  I  went  the  first  time 
to  Ploszow.  I  was  reflecting  upon  that  terrible  inca- 
pacity for  life  which  casts  its  shadow  upon  my  existence 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  183 

and  the  existence  of  those  like  me,  and  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  its  main  source  is  the  feminine  element 
which  predominates  in  our  character.  I  do  not  mean  by 
this  that  we  are  physically  effeminate  or  wanting  in 
manly  courage.  No !  it  is  something  quite  different. 
Courage  and  daring  we  are  not  deficient  in;  but  as 
regards  psychical  elements,  every  one  of  us  is  a  she,  not 
a  he.  There  is  in  us  a  lack  of  the  synthetic  faculty 
which  distinguishes  things  that  are  important  from  those 
that  are  not.  The  least  matter  discourages,  hurts,  and 
repulses  us ;  in  consequence  of  which  we  sacrifice  very 
great  things  for  small  ones.  My  past  is  a  proof  thereof. 
I  sacrificed  inexpressible  happiness,  my  future  and  the 
future  of  the  beloved  woman,  because  I  had  read  in 
my  aunt's  letter  that  Kromitzki  wished  to  marry  her. 
My  nerves  took  the  bit  between  their  teeth,  and  carried 
me  where  I  did  not  wish  to  go.  This  was  nothing  but 
a  disease  of  the  will.  But  it  is  a  feminine  disease,  not 
a  masculine  one.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  I  act  as 
an  hysterical  woman  ?  It  is  a  misfortune  I  brought 
with  me  into  the  world,  to  which  whole  generations 
have  contributed  their  share,  as  also  the  conditions  of 
life  in  which  we  exist. 

The  shaking  myself  thus  free  from  all  responsibility 
did  not  give  me  any  relief.  When  I  arrived  at  Warsaw 
I  intended  to  call  upon  Clara,  but  was  prevented  by  a 
severe  headache ;  which  got  better  towards  evening  before 
my  aunt  came  up. 

She  found  me  already  dressed,  and  we  drove  together 
to  the  concert,  which  was  a  great  success.  Clara's  fame 
had  attracted  the  whole  musical  and  intelligent  world, 
and  the  charitable  purpose  the  aristocratic  circles.  I 
saw  many  people  there  I  knew,  among  them  Sniatynski 
and  his  wife.  The  concert  room  was  crowded.  But  I 
was  out  of  humor,  and  everything  irritated  me.  I  do 
not  know  why,  but  I  felt  afraid  Clara's  performance 
would  be  a  failure.  When  she  appeared  on  the  platform 
a  programme  clung  to  the  folds  of  her  dress ;  I  thought  it 


184  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

would  make  her  appear  ridiculous.  She  herself  in  full 
evening  dress  seemed  to  me  more  like  a  stranger  than  a 
friend.  I  involuntarily  asked  myself  whether  it  was 
the  same  Clara  I  was  so  intimate  with.  When  the 
hearty  applause  had  ceased  she  sat  down  to  the  piano, 
and  I  acknowledged  to  myself  that  she  had  a  noble  and 
artistic  presence,  full  of  simplicity  and  quite  free  of  any 
affectation.  On  all  faces  there  was  the  concentrated 
attention  of  people  who  have  no  understanding  of  art, 
but  like  to  pass  for  connoisseurs  and  judges.  She  played 
Mendelssohn's  concerto,  which  I  know  by  heart,  —  but 
whether  it  was  the  thought  that  much  was  expected 
from  her,  or  that  the  unusually  enthusiastic  reception 
had  moved  her,  she  played  worse  than  I  had  ever  heard 
her.  I  was  sorry  for  it  and  looked  at  her  with  astonish- 
ment ;  our  eyes  met  for  a  moment.  The  expression  of 
my  face  put  the  final  touch  to  her  confusion,  and  I  heard 
a  few  dim  notes  without  force  or  expression.  I  was  quite 
sure  now  she  would  fail.  Never  had  the  piano,  with  its 
lack  of  continuity,  its  sound  smothered  by  the  acoustic 
properties  of  the  room,  seemed  to  me  a  more  miserable 
instrument.  At  times  it  seemed  as  if  I  heard  the  sharp, 
staccato  sounds  of  a  harp.  Presently  Clara  recovered 
her  self-possession,  but  upon  the  whole  I  thought  she 
had  played  but  indifferently.  I  was  very  much  surprised 
indeed  when  after  she  had  finished  there  rose  such  a 
storm  of  applause  as  I  had  not  heard  even  in  Paris, 
where  Clara  was  received  with  exceptional  enthusiasm. 
During  the  short  pause,  amateurs  and  professionals 
began  discussing  the  music,  and  in  their  animated  faces 
I  read  perfect  satisfaction.  The  cheering  lasted  until 
Clara  reappeared  on  the  platform.  She  stepped  forth 
with  downcast  eyes,  and  I  who  could  read  her  face  saw 
what  she  wanted  to  express :  "  You  are  very  kind,  and  I 
thank  you  for  it ;  but  it  was  not  good  and  I  feel  inclined 
to  cry."  I  too  had  applauded  with  the  rest,  for  which  I 
received  a  passing  glance  full  of  reproach.  Clara  loves 
her  art  too  much  to  be  gratified  by  undeserved  applause. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  185 

I  felt  sorry  for  her,  and  should  have  liked  to  say  a 
few  encouraging  words,  but  the  continued  cheering  did 
not  permit  her  to  leave  the  platform.  She  sat  down 
again  and  played  Beethoven's  Sonata  in  cis-moll,  which 
was  not  on  the  programme.  There  is,  I  believe,  no  compo- 
sition in  the  whole  world  that  shows  with  the  same  dis- 
tinctness the  soul  torn  by  tragic  conflict ;  especially  in  the 
third  part  of  the  Sonata,  the  Presto-agitato.  The  music 
evidently  responded  to  the  tune  of  Clara's  soul,  and  cer- 
tainly harmonized  with  my  own  disposition,  for  never 
had  I  heard  Beethoven  interpreted  and  understood  like 
this  before.  I  am  not  a  musician,  but  I  suppose  even 
musicians  do  not  know  how  much  there  is  in  that 
Sonata.  I  cannot  find  another  word  than  "  oppressive- 
ness "  to  describe  the  sensation  wrought  upon  the  audi- 
ence. One  had  a  feeling  as  if  mystical  rites  were  being 
performed;  there  rose  before  me  a  vast  desert,  not  of 
this  world,  weird  and  unutterably  sad,  without  shape, 
half  lit  up  by  a  ghostly  moon,  in  the  midst  of  which  hope- 
less despair  waited  and  sobbed  and  tore  its  hair.  It  was 
terrible  and  impressive  because  so  unearthly ;  and  yet 
irresistibly  attractive,  —  never  had  my  spirit  come  in 
such  close  proximity  to  the  infinite.  It  was  almost  an 
hallucination.  I  imagined  that  in  the  shapeless  desert, 
in  the  dusk  of  a  world  of  shadows,  I  was  searching  for 
somebody  dearer  to  me  than  the  whole  world,  one  with- 
out whom  I  could  not  and  would  not  live,  and  I  searched 
with  the  conviction  that  I  should  have  to  search  forever 
and  never  find  what  I  was  looking  for.  My  heart  was 
so  oppressed  that  at  times  I  could  scarcely  breathe.  I 
paid  no  attention  to  the  mechanical  part  of  the  execution, 
which  no  doubt  was  as  perfect  as  the  expression. 

All  in  the  room  seemed  under  the  same  spell,  not  ex- 
cepting Clara  herself. 

When  she  left  off  playing  she  remained  for  a  moment 
with  uplifted  head  and  eyes,  lips  slightly  parted,  and 
face  very  pale.  And  it  was  not  a  mere  concert  effect,  it 
was  real  inspiration  and  forgetfulness  of  self, 


186  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

There  was  a  great  hush  in  that  crowd,  as  if  they  ex- 
pected something,  or  were  benumbed  by  sorrow,  or  tried 
to  catch  the  last  echo  of  sobbing  despair,  carried  away 
by  a  wind  from  the  other  world. 

Presently  there  happened  what  probably  never  hap- 
pened in  a  concert  room  before.  A  great  tumult  arose, 
and  such  an  outcry  as  if  a  catastrophe  were  threatening 
the  whole  audience.  Several  musicians  and  reporters 
approached  the  platform.  I  saw  their  heads  bowed  over 
Clara's  hands,  she  had  tears  on  her  eyelashes,  her  face 
looked  still  inspired,  but  calm  and  serene.  I  went  with 
the  others  to  press  her  hands. 

From  the  first  moment  of  our  acquaintance  Clara  had 
always  addressed  me  in  French ;  now  for  the  first  time, 
returning  the  pressure  of  my  hand,  she  said  in  German : 

"  Haben  Sis  mich  verstanden  ?  " 

"  Ja,"  I  replied,  "  und  ich  war  selir  ungliicklich ! " 
And  it  was  true. 

The  continuation  of  the  concert  was  one  great  tri- 
umph.  After  the  performance  Sniatynski  and  his  wife 
carried  Clara  off  to  their  house.  I  had  no  wish  to  go 
there.  When  I  reached  home,  I  felt  so  tired  that  with- 
out undressing  I  threw  myself  upon  the  sofa,  and  re- 
mained there  an  hour  without  moving,  yet  not  asleep. 

After  a  long  time  I  became  conscious  that  I  had  been 
thinking  about  the  young  cleric's  funeral,  Aniela,  and 
death.     I  rung  for  lights,  and  then  began  to  write. 


29  April. 
Kromitzki's  letters  have  stirred  me  to  such  a  degree 
that  I  cannot  get  over  the  impression.  My  unreason- 
able resentment  towards  Aniela  is  passing,  and  the  more 
I  feel  how  undeserved  was  my  harshness,  the  more  con- 
trite I  become,  and  the  more  tenderly  I  think  of  her. 
Yet  more  clearly  than  ever  I  see  how  these  two  are 
bound  by  the  power  of  a  simple  fact.  Since  yesterday 
I  have  been  in  the  clutches  of  these  thoughts,  and  that 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  187 

is  the  reason  I  did  not  go  to  Ploszow.  There  I  am 
obliged  to  keep  watch  upon  myself  and  to  put  on  an  ap- 
pearance of  calmness,  and  at  present  I  could  not  do  it. 
Everything  Avithin  me  —  thoughts,  feelings,  nerves  — 
has  risen  up  in  revolt  against  what  has  been  done.  I 
do  not  know  whether  there  can  be  a  more  desperate  state 
of  mind  than  when  we  do  not  agree  with  something,  pro- 
test with  every  fibre  of  heart  and  brain,  and  at  the  same 
time  feel  powerless  in  presence  of  an  accomplished  fact. 
I  understand  that  this  is  only  a  foretaste  of  what  is 
awaiting  me  in  the  future.  There  is  nothing  to  be  done, 
—  nothing.  She  is  married,  is  Pani  Kromitzka ;  she  be- 
longs to  him,  will  always  belong  to  him ;  and  I  who 
cannot  consent,  for  to  do  so  would  mean  losing  my  own 
self,  am  obliged  to  consent.  I  might  as  well  protest 
against  the  earth  turning  round  as  against  that  other 
law  which  bids  a  woman  stand  by  her  husband.  Does 
this  mean  that  I  ought  to  respect  that  law  ?  How  can  I 
submit  when  my  whole  being  cries  out  against  it  ?  At 
moments  I  feel  inclined  to  go  away,  but  I  understand  per- 
fectly that  beyond  this  woman  the  world  has  for  me  as 
much  meaning  as  death,  —  that  is,  nothingness ;  more- 
over, I  know  beforehand  that  I  shall  not  go,  because  I 
could  not  muster  strength  enough  to  do  so.  Some- 
times I  have  thought  that  human  misery  goes  far  be- 
yond human  imagination,  —  imagination  has  its  limits, 
and  misery,  like  the  vast  seas,  appears  to  be  without 
end.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  floating  on  those  seas. 
But  no,  —  there  is  still  something  for  me  to  do. 

I  read  once,  in  Amiel's  memoirs,  that  the  deed  is  only 
the  crystallized  matter  of  thought.  But  thoughts  may 
remain  in  the  abstract,  —  not  so  feelings.  Theoretically 
I  was  conscious  of  it  before ;  it  is  only  now  I  have  come 
to  prove  it  actually  on  myself.  From  the  time  of  my 
arrival  at  Ploszow  until  now,  I  have  never  clearly  and 
distinctly  said  to  myself  that  I  wanted  to  win  Aniela's 
love,  but  it  was  merely  a  question  of  words.  In  reality 
I  know  that  I  wanted  her,  and  want  her  still.     Every 


188  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

look  of  mine,  every  word,  and  all  my  actions  are  tending 
that  way.  Affection  which  does  not  include  desire  and 
action  is  a  mere  shadow.  Let  it  be  understood,  —  I  want 
her.  I  want  to  be  for  Aniela  the  most  beloved  being,  as 
she  is  to  me.  I  want  to  win  her  love,  all  her  thoughts, 
her  soul ;  and  I  do  not  intend  to  put  any  limit  to  my  de- 
sires. I  shall  do  everything  my  heart  dictates,  and  use 
all  means  my  intelligence  sees  most  efficient  to  win  her. 
I  shall  take  from  Kromitzki  as  much  of  Aniela  as  I  can ; 
I  shall  take  her  from  him  altogether  if  she  be  willing. 
In  this  way  I  shall  have  an  aim  in  life ;  shall  know  why 
I  wake  up  in  the  morning,  take  nourishment  during  the 
day,  and  recuperate  myself  in  sleep.  I  shall  not  be 
happy ;  for  I  could  be  happy  only  if  she  were  exclu- 
sively my  own,  and  I  could  crush  the  man  who  had  her 
before  me.  But  I  shall  have  something  at  least  to  live 
for.  It  will  be  my  salvation.  And  this  is  not  a  resolu- 
tion taken  upon  the  spur  of  the  moment ;  it  is  only  a 
translation  into  words  of  all  the  forces  that  work  within 
me,  —  the  will  and  the  desires  which  belong  to  the  feel- 
ing and  make  an  indivisible  part  of  it. 

I  throw  all  my  scruples  to  the  winds.  Even  the  fear 
that  Aniela  might  be  unhappy  loving  me  must  give  way 
before  the  great  truth,  great  as  the  universe,  that  the 
presence  of  Love  fills  the  life,  gives  sustenance  to  it,  and 
is  a  hundred  thousand  times  worth  more  than  emptiness 
and  nothingness  of  existence. 

Thousands  of  years  ago  it  was  known  to  the  world 
that  virtue  and  righteousness  alone  give  power  to 
life ;  that  emptiness  and  nothingness  dwell  in  the 
realm  of  evil.  The  moment  when  that  dear  head  rests 
on  my  breast,  when  the  beloved  lips  meet  mine,  truth 
and  goodness  will  be  with  us.  In  the  midst  of  doubts 
which  crowd  my  brain,  that  one  truth  shines  clearly,  — 
of  this  I  can  say  I  believe  in  it.  At  last  I  have  found 
something  certain  in  life.  I  know  perfectly  what  a  gulf 
there  is  between  my  belief  and  the  small  conventional 
moralities  created  for  every-day  use.     I  know  that  to 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  189 

Aniela  it  will  be  a  strange,  fearsome  world  ;  but  I  will 
take  her  by  the  hand  and  lead  her  there,  because  I  can 
tell  her  with  sincere  conviction  that  there  are  truth 
and  goodness. 

I  find  great  solace  in  these  thoughts.  The  greater 
part  of  the  day  passed  miserably  enough,  because  of  the 
consciousness  of  my  impotency  to  overcome  the  obstacles 
that  stand  in  our,  mine  and  Aniela's,  way.  The  thought 
crossed  my  mind :  "  Suppose,  after  all,  she  loves  her 
husband  ?  " 

Fortunately  for  me,  a  visit  from  Doctor  Chwastowski 
interrupted  my  train  of  thoughts.  He  had  come  from 
Ploszow  to  consult  with  one  of  the  physicians  who  at 
some  time  had  attended  Pani  Celina.  Before  going  back 
he  had  come  to  see  me.  He  said  Pani  Celina  was  still 
neither  better  nor  worse,  but  Pani  Kromitzka  was  con- 
fined to  her  room  with  a  severe  headache.  Then  he 
began  to  speak  about  Aniela,  and  I  listened  with  pleas- 
ure, as  it  seemed  in  some  way  to  make  up  for  the  loss  of 
seeing  her.  He  spoke  intelligently  enough,  for  a  young 
man  of  so  little  experience.  He  said  he  had  made  it  a 
rule  to  look  mistrustingly  upon  mankind  in  general,  not 
because  he  thought  it  the  right  point  of  view,  but  be- 
cause it  was  the  safest.  As  to  Pani  Kromitzka,  he  was 
quite  sure  hers  was  a  nature  of  exceptional  goodness 
and  nobility.  He  spoke  of  her  with  a  scarcely  disguised 
enthusiasm,  and  I  had  some  suspicion  he  felt  more  than 
admiration  for  her.  But  this  did  not  trouble  me  in  the 
least;  there  is  too  great  a  distance  between  her  and  this 
young  medical  student.  On  the  contrary,  I  felt  pleased 
that  he  appreciated  her,  and  asked  him  to  stop  as  long 
as  he  could ;  his  presence  did  me  good,  as  it  kept  me 
from  thinking. 

In  the  course  of  our  conversation  I  asked  about  his 
plans  for  the  future.  He  replied  that  first  he  must  save 
some  money  in  order  to  go  abroad  and  see  something  of 
foreign  hospitals;  afterwards  he  intended  to  settle  at 
Warsaw. 


190  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

"  What  do  you  understand  by  settling  at  Warsaw  ?  " 

"  Work  at  some  of  the  hosintals,  and  a  possible 
practice." 

"  And  then  you  will  get  married,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so ;  but  there  is  plenty  of  time  for 
that." 

"  Unless  you  meet  somebody  that  subjugates  your 
will ;  as  a  doctor  you  know  that  love  is  a  physiological 
necessity." 

Young  Chwastowski  wants  to  show  himself  off  as  a 
sober-minded  man  above  human  weaknesses  ;  so  he  only 
shrugged  his  broad  shoulders,  smoothed  his  short-cropped 
head,  and  said :  "  I  acknowledge  the  necessity ;  but  do 
not  intend  to  allow  it  to  occupy  too  large  a  space  in 
my  life." 

He  looked  very  knowing,  but  I  replied  gravely  :  "  Con- 
sidering somewhat  deeper  the  question  of  feeling,  who 
knows  whether  it  be  worth  while  to  live  for  anything 
else  ?  " 

Chwastowski  pondered  over  this  a  little  while. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  agree  with  you.  There  are 
many  other  objects  in  life,  —  for  instance,  science,  or 
even  social  duties.  I  do  not  say  anything  against  matri- 
mony ;  a  man  ought  to  marry  for  himself  as  well  as  to 
have  children.  But  matrimony  is  one  thing,  and  con- 
tinual love-making  another." 

"  What  is  the  difference  between  them  ?  " 

"  The  difference  is  obvious,  sir.  We  are  like  ants  con- 
structing an  ant-hill.  We  have  our  work  to  do,  and  not 
much  time  to  spare  for  love  and  women.  That  is  all 
very  well  for  those  who  cannot  work,  or  who  do  not  want 
to  do  anything." 

Saying  this  he  looked  like  a  man  who  speaks  in  the 
name  of  all  that  is  strongest  in  the  country,  and  ex- 
presses himself  well.  I  looked  with  a  certain  satisfaction 
at  this  healthy  specimen  of  mankind,  and  acknowledged 
that,  except  for  a  certain  touch  of  youthful  arrogance,  he 
spoke  very  sensibly. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  191 

It  is  quite  true  that  woman  and  love  do  not  occupy 
a  large  space  in  the  life  of  those  who  work,  and  those 
who  have  before  them  great  undertakings  and  serious 
aims.  The  peasant  marries  because  such  is  the  custom, 
and  he  wants  a  housekeeper.  There  is  very  little  senti- 
ment in  him,  although  poets  and  novelists  want  us  to 
believe  the  contrary.  The  man  of  science,  the  states- 
man, the  leader,  the  politician  devote  only  a  small 
part  of  their  life  to  woman.  Artists  are  exceptional. 
Their  profession  brings  them  in  touch  with  love,  for  art 
exists  through  love  and  woman.  Generally,  it  is  only 
in  rich  communities  that  woman  reigns  supreme  and 
fills  the  life  of  those  who  have  no  serious  work  in  hand- 
She  encompasses  all  their  thoughts,  becomes  the  leading 
motive  of  their  actions,  and  the  exclusive  aim  of  their 
exertions.  And  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  There  is  my- 
self for  instance.  The  community  to  which  I  belong  is 
not  as  rich  as  others,  but  personally  I  am  rich.  These 
riches  prevented  me  from  doing  anything,  and  I  have  no 
fixed  aim  in  life.  It  might  be  different  had  I  been  born 
an  Englishman  or  a  German,  and  not  been  handicapped 
by  that  imj^roductivite  Slave.  No  one  of  the  compound 
active  principles  of  civilization  attracts  me  or  fills  up  the 
void,  for  the  simple  reason  that  civilization  is  faint  and 
permeated  with  scepticism.  If  it  feels  its  end  is  drawing 
near  and  doubts  itself,  why  should  I  believe  in  it  and 
devote  to  it  my  life  ?  Generally  speaking,  I  live  as  if  in 
mid  air,  with  no  firm  hold  upon  the  earth.  If  my  disposi- 
tion were  cold  and  dry,  if  I  were  dull  of  mind  or  merely 
sensuous,  I  could  have  limited  my  life  to  mere  vegeta- 
tion or  animal  enjoyment.  But  it  happened  otherwise. 
I  brought  with  me  into  the  world  a  bright  intellect,  a 
luxuriant  organism,  and  vital  powers  of  no  mean  degree. 
These  forces  had  to  find  an  outlet,  and  they  could  find 
it  only  in  the  love  for  a  woman.  There  remained  noth- 
ing else  for  me.  My  whole  misfortune  is  that,  as  a  child 
of  a  diseased  civilization,  I  grew  up  crooked ;  therefore 
love,  too,  came  to  me  crooked. 


192  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Simplicity  of  miud  would  have  given  me  happiness, 
but  what  is  the  use  to  speak  of  it  ?  The  hunchback,  too, 
would  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  his  hump,  but  he  cannot,  be- 
cause hump-backed  he  came  from  his  mother's  womb. 
My  hump  was  caused  by  the  abnormal  state  of  civiliza- 
tion that  brought  me  into  the  world.  But  straight  or 
crooked,  I  must  love,  and  I  will. 


4  May. 

My  reason  is  now  altogether  subservient  to  feeling, 
and  is,  in  truth,  like  the  driver  who  passively  clings  to 
his  box,  and  can  do  nothing  but  watch  whether  the  ve- 
hicle will  go  to  pieces.  I  went  back  to  Ploszow  a  few 
days  ago,  and  all  I  say  and  all  I  do  are  only  the  tactics 
of  love.  He  is  a  clever  doctor  —  is  Chwastowski  —  to 
prescribe  for  Aniela  exercise  in  the  park.  I  found  her 
there  this  morning.  There  are  moments  when  the  feel- 
ing in  my  heart  —  though  I  am  always  conscious  of  it  — 
manifests  itself  with  such  extraordinary  power  that  it 
almost  frightens  me  by  its  magnitude.  Such  a  moment 
I  had  to-day,  when  at  a  sudden  turn  of  the  road  I  met 
Aniela.  Never  had  she  appeared  to  me  more  beautiful, 
more  desirable,  and  more  as  if  she  were  my  own.  This 
is  exactl}^  the  only  woman  in  the  world  who  by  virtue 
of  certain  natural  forces,  scarcely  known  by  name,  was 
to  attract  me,  as  the  magnet  attracts  iron,  to  reign  over 
me,  to  attach  me  to  her,  and  become  the  aim  and  com- 
pletion of  my  life.  Her  voice,  her  shape,  her  glances  in- 
toxicate me.  To-day,  when  I  thus  unexpectedly  met  her, 
I  thought  it  was  not  only  her  personal  charm  she  car- 
ried with  her,  but  the  charm  of  that  early  morning,  that 
spring  and  serene  weather,  the  joy  of  all  the  birds  and 
plants,  — in  fact,  she  seemed  to  be  more  an  incarnation  of 
beauty  and  nature  than  a  woman.  And  it  struck  me  then 
that,  if  nature  had  created  her  thus  that  she  should  react 
upon  me  more  than  upon  any  other  man,  nature  had  meant 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  193 

her  to  be  mine,  and  that  my  right  had  been  trodden  under 
foot  by  this  marriage.  Who  knows  whether  all  the 
crookedness  of  the  world  does  not  spring  from  the  non- 
fultilment  of  certain  laws,  and  whether  that  be  not  the 
cause  of  the  imperfectness  of  life  ? 

They  are  wrong  who  say  that  love  is  blind.  On  the 
contrary,  nothing  —  not  the  smallest  detail  —  escapes 
its  eyes  ;  it  sees  everything  in  the  beloved  being,  no- 
tices everything ;  but  melts  it  all  in  one  flame  in  the 
great  and  simple  "  I  love."  When  I  came  close  to 
Aniela,  I  noticed  that  her  eyes  were  brilliant  as  if  from 
recent  slumber;  that  on  her  face  and  the  light  print 
dress  fell  the  golden  rays  of  the  morning  sun  filtering 
through  the  young  leaves ;  her  hair  was  tied  in  a  loose  knot, 
and  the  flowing  morning  dress  showed  the  outline  of  her 
shoulders  and  supple  waist,  and  in  its  very  carelessness  had 
a  certain  freshness,  which  enhanced  a  thousandfold  her 
charm.  It  did  not  escape  my  notice  how  much  smaller 
than  usual  she  looked  among  the  tall  elm  trees  of  the 
avenue,  —  almost  a  child  ;  in  brief,  nothing  escaped  me, 
but  all  my  observations  changed  into  the  rapture  of  one 
who  loves  deliriously.  She  returned  my  morning  greet- 
ing with  some  confusion.  For  the  last  few  days  she 
seems  afraid  of  me,  for  I  hypnotize  her  with  every  glance 
and  word.  Her  peace  of  thought  is  already  disturbed, 
and  the  ferment  has  entered  her  soul.  She  cannot  help 
seeing  I  love  her,  but  does  not  own  it,  not  even  to  her- 
self. Sometimes  I  have  a  sensation  as  if  I  were  hold- 
ing a  bird  in  my  hand,  and  heard  its  heart  palpitating 
under  my  fingers.  We  walked  together  in  embarrassed 
silence,  which  I  did  not  care  to  interrupt.  I  know  this 
uneasiness  is  oppressive  to  her ;  but  it  renders  her  my 
accomplice,  and  brings  me  nearer  to  the  end.  In  the 
silence  which  surrounded  us  not  a  sound  was  audible 
but  the  crunching  of  the  gravel  under  our  feet,  and  the 
whistling  of  the  golden  orioles,  which  are  plentiful  in 
the  park.  I  started  at  last  a  conversation.  I  directed 
it  to  suit  my  plans,  for  however  much  my  mind  is  closed 

13 


194  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

against  influences  that  have  no  bearing  upon  my  feeling, 
within  their  sphere  I  have  a  well-nigh  redoubled  presence 
of  mind,  —  an  acuteness  of  perception,  as  have  those 
plunged  into  a  hypnotic  trance,  and  in  a  given  direction 
see  more  clearly  than  people  in  their  normal  state.  We 
passed  speedily  on  to  personal  topics.  I  spoke  about 
myself  in  the  confidential  tone  in  which  one  speaks  to 
those  nearest,  who  alone  have  the  right  to  know  every- 
thing. There  sprung  up  between  us  a  whole  world  of 
mutual  understanding  and  thoughts,  common  to  us  both. 
Since  such  a  bond  ought  to  exist  by  virtue  of  marriage, 
—  between  her  and  her  husband,  —  I  was  leading  her 
towards  spiritual  faithlessness  by  such  gradual  steps 
that  she  scarcely  could  be  aware  of  it. 

Nevertheless,  the  subtle  nature  perceived  the  drift. 
But  I  had  taken  her  by  the  hand,  and  led  her ;  yet  while 
leading,  I  felt  a  moral  resistance.  I  was  fully  aware  the 
resistance  would  grow  stronger  if  I  pushed  much  farther, 
and  she  perceived  the  danger.  But  I  saw  too  that  I  was 
gaining  ground,  and  that  step  by  step  I  could  lead  her 
where  I  wanted. 

In  the  meantime  I  spoke  on  purpose  about  the  past. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  I  said,  "  how  in  the  days  gone 
by  —  those  happier  days  —  you  asked  me  why  I  did  not 
remain  in  the  country,  and  turn  my  abilities  to  some 
use.  It  was  when  I  came  home  late,  and  you  were 
sitting  up  for  me.  I  cannot  tell  you  even  what  power 
you  had  over  me.  I  could  not  then  begin  to  work,  I  had 
to  go  away ;  then  came  my  father's  death.  But  I  never 
forgot  those  words.  I  have  come  back  now  to  live  and 
to  work  at  home,  and  if  I  ever  achieve  anything  it  will 
be  owing  to  you,  —  your  influence  will  be  the  source  of 
my  achievement." 

There  ensued  a  momentary  silence  between  us,  broken 
only  by  the  whistling  of  the  orioles.  Aniela  was  evidently 
searching  for  a  reply,  and  at  last  said,  — 

"I  cannot  believe  that  a  man  like  you  should  not  be 
able  to  find  a  more  weighty  inducement.    You  know  very 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  195 

well  it  is  your  duty,  and  what  is  past  is  past,  and  do  w 
everything  is  changed." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  I  replied.  "  Perhaps,  when 
once  I  start,  I  shall  find  in  the  work  itself  some  pleasure 
and  encouragement.  But  a  man  like  me,  who,  in  spite  of 
what  you  are  saying  about  duty,  has  never  been  full}^ 
conscious  of  it,  must  have  some  personal  reason  for 
changing  the  whole  tenor  of  his  life  ;  and  the  more  he  is 
unhappy,  the  more  he  wants  that  personal  inducement. 
Why  should  I  tell  you  what  is  not  true  ?  I  am  not 
happy.  The  consciousness  of  duty  is  a  beautiful  thing, 
no  doubt ;  but  unfortunately  I  do  not  have  it.  You,  who 
are  so  much  better,  nobler  than  I,  could  have  taught  it 
me ;  but  it  was  fated  otherwise.  But  even  now,  if  only 
for  the  sake  of  those  times  when  you  wanted  me  to  do 
something,  I  can  do  it  still  if  you  will  help  me." 

Aniela  hastened  her  steps,  as  if  she  wanted  to  return 
home,  and  said  almost  in  a  whisper,  — 

"  Do  not  say  that,  Leon ;  please  do  not.  You  know  I 
cannot  do  it." 

"  Why  can  you  not  ?  Do  not  understand  me  wrongly. 
You  are  and  always  will  be  a  very  dear  sister  to  me.  It  is 
only  this  I  wanted  you  to  know." 

Aniela  almost  feverishly  gave  me  her  hand,  which  I 
raised  reverently  to  my  lips. 

"  Yes,  I  will  be  that,  —  always  that,"  she  replied 
quickly. 

And  I  saw  what  a  heavy  weight  I  had  lifted  from  her 
mind ;  how  that  one  word  "  sister "  had  calmed  and 
moved  her.  This  made  me  recover  all  my  self-posses- 
sion ;  for,  when  I  had  touched  her  hand  with  my  lips,  it 
almost  grew  dark  before  my  eyes,  and  I  wanted  to  take 
her  in  my  arms,  and  tell  her  the  whole  truth.  In  the 
mean  time  Aniela's  face  had  grown  brighter  and  more 
cheerful.  As  we  came  nearer  the  house,  her  trouble 
seemed  to  slip  off  from  her,  and  seeing  how  much  I  had 
gained  by  taking  this  way  with  her,  I  continued  in  the 
same  strain  of  friendly  conversation. 


106  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

"  You  see,  little  sister,  there  is  such  a  void  around  me. 
My  father  is  no  more ;  my  aunt  is  a  saintly  woman ; 
but  she  does  not  understand  new  times  and  new  people. 
Her  ideas  are  different  from  mine.  I  shall  never  marry, 
—  think  only  what  a  lonely  man  I  am.  1  have  nobody 
near  me,  —  nobody  to  share  my  thoughts,  my  plans,  or 
my  sorrows  ;  nothing  but  loneliness  around  me.  Is  it 
not  natural  that  I  look  for  sympathy  where  I  might  ex- 
pect to  find  it  ?  I  am  like  the  crippled  beggar,  who  stands 
waiting  at  the  gate  until  they  give  him  a  small  coin.  At 
this  moment  the  beggar  is  very  poor  indeed,  and  he  stands 
under  your  window,  and  begs  for  a  little  friendliness,  sym- 
pathy, and  pity.  A  very  small  coin  will  satisfy  him,  — 
you  will  not  refuse  him  that,  Aniela,  will  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  not,  Leon ;  I  will  not,  since  you  are  so 
unhappy  —  " 

Her  voice  broke,  and  she  began  to  tremble.  Again  I 
had  to  make  a  great  effort  to  restrain  myself ;  and  as 
I  looked  at  her,  something  like  unshed  tears  took  me  by 
the  throat. 

"  Aniela !  little  Aniela  !  "  I  exclaimed,  not  knowing 
what  to  say. 

But  she  waved  her  hands,  as  if  to  ward  me  off,  and 
said,  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  — 

"Let  me  go  —  I  shall  be  better  presently.  I  can 
not  go  back  like  this ;  let  me  go." 

And  she  went  swiftly  away. 

"  Aniela,  forgive  me  !  "  I  called  after  her. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  follow  her,  but  I  thought  it 
would  be  better  to  leave  her  to  herself,  and  I  only  fol- 
lowed her  with  my  eyes.  She  went  quickly  back  into 
the  avenue  we  had  crossed  together,  and  then  turned  in- 
to a  side  path.  Sometimes  the  foliage  hid  her  from  my 
eyes,  then  again  the  light  dress  lit  up  by  the  sun  ap- 
peared between  the  trees.  From  the  distance  I  saw  how 
she  shut  and  opened  her  sunshade,  as  if  trying  by  phys- 
ical exertion  to  overcome  her  emotion.  During  all  that 
time  I  inwardly  called  her  the  most  endearing  names 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  197 

that  love  could  invent.  I  could  not  go  away  without 
looking  once  more  into  her  eyes  ;  but  I  had  a  long  time 
to  wait.  She  came  at  last,  but  passed  quickly  by,  as  if 
afraid  of  another  shock  ;  she  only  smiled  at  me  in  pass- 
ing, with  angelic  sweetness,  and  said,  "  I  am  all  right 
again." 

On  her  face,  pink  with  exercise,  there  was  no  trace  of 
tears.  I  remained  alone,  and  a  mad,  indescribable  joy 
got  hold  of  me,  hope  filled  my  heart,  and  there  was  one 
thought  dominating  everything :  "  She  loves  me,  she  fights 
against  it,  does  not  yield,  deludes  herself  —  but  loves." 
At  times,  the  most  self-possessed  of  men,  in  the  super- 
abundance of  some  emotion,  comes  near  the  brink  of 
madness.  I  was  so  near  it  then  that  I  felt  a  wild  desire 
to  hide  myself  in  the  deepest  recess  of  the  woods,  tear 
the  grass,  and  shout  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  *'  She  loves 
me  ! "  At  present,  when  I  am  able  to  think  more  calmly 
of  this  joy,  I  find  it  was  composed  of  various  active  forces. 
There  was  the  joy  of  the  artist  who  sees  that  a  master- 
piece he  has  begun  is  progressing  satisfactorily ;  maybe 
also  the  satisfaction  of  the  spider  when  the  fly  comes 
near  the  web ;  but  there  was  also  kindness,  pity,  great 
tenderness,  and  all  that  over  which  angels  rejoice,  as  the 
poet  has  it.  I  felt  sorry  the  defenceless  little  thing 
should  fall  into  my  hands ;  and  that  pity  increased  the 
love,  and  the  desire  to  conquer  Aniela.  I  felt  also  a 
sting  of  conscience  that  I  had  deceived  her,  and  yet  I  had 
the  consciousness  that  I  had  spoken  the  truth  when  I 
asked  for  her  sympathy  and  friendship.  I  want  it  as 
I  want  my  health.  But  I  did  not  confess  to  all  my 
desires,  because  the  time  for  it  has  not  yet  come.  I  did 
not  tell  her  the  whole  truth,  so  as  not  to  frighten  the 
timid  soul.  I  shall  come  to  it  by  and  by,  and  the  road 
which  leads  towards  it  in  the  straightest  line  is  the 
best. 


198  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

10  May. 

The  weather  is  still  serene,  and  everything  is  serene 
between  us.  Aniela  is  calm  and  happy.  She  thoroughly 
believes  in  what  I  said,  and,  as  I  did  not  ask  for  any- 
thing but  sisterly  affection,  and  her  conscience  approves, 
she  allows  her  heart  to  follow  its  dictates.  I  alone 
know  that  it  is  a  loyal  way  of  deceiving  herself  and  her 
husband;  for  under  cover  of  sisterly  affection  there  is 
another  feeling,  the  growth  of  which  I  am  watching  daily. 
Of  course  I  do  not  intend  to  undeceive  her  until  the  feel- 
ing grows  too  strong  for  her.  By  and  by  she  will  be 
enveloped  in  a  flame  which  neither  will,  nor  conscious- 
ness of  duty,  nor  the  modesty  of  the  woman  white  as  a 
swan,  will  be  able  to  keep  under  control.  Constantly  the 
thought  dwells  with  me  that  since  I  love  her  most,  mine 
is  the  higher  right.  What  can  there  be  more  logical  or 
more  true  ?  The  unwritten  code  of  ethics  of  all  people, 
of  whatever  faith,  says  that  the  mutual  belonging  of  man 
and  woman  to  each  other  is  based  upon  love. 

But  to-day  I  am  so  restful  and  happy  that  I  prefer  to 
feel  rather  than  to  reason.  There  is  now  between  us  a 
great  cordiality,  ease,  and  intimacy.  How  we  were  made 
for  each  other,  cling  to  each  other,  and  how  the  dear 
little  thing  delights  in  the  warmth,  delusive  warmth  of 
brotherly  affection.  Never  since  mj  return  have  I  seen 
her  so  cheerful.  Formerly  when  I  looked  at  her  she  re- 
minded me  of  Shakspeare's  "  Poor  Tom."  A  nature  like 
hers  wants  love,  as  her  body  wants  air  to  breathe.  Kro- 
mitzki,  occupied  with  speculations,  does  not  love  her 
enough,  perhaps  does  not  know  what  love  means.  She 
might  rightly  say  with  Shakspeare,  "  Poor  Tom  's  acold." 
When  I  think  of  this  my  heart  is  stirred,  and  I  make  a 
silent  vow  that  she  shall  never  feel  cold  as  long  as  I  live. 

If  our  love  were  wrong  there  could  not  be  within  us 
such  peace.  That  Aniela  does  not  call  it  by  its  proper 
name  means  nothing;  it  is  there  all  the  same.  The 
whole  day  passed  for  us  like  an  idyl.     Formerly  I  dis- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  199 

liked  Sundays  ;  now  I  find  that  a  Sunday,  from  morning 
until  night,  may  be  like  a  poem,  especially  in  the  country. 
Soon  after  breakfast,  we  went  to  church  in  time  for  the 
early  mass.  My  aunt  followed  in  our  rear ;  even  Pani 
Celina,  profiting  by  the  fine  weather,  was  wheeled  thither 
in  her  Bath  chair.  There  were  not  many  people  in 
church,  as  most  of  them  go  later  for  high  mass.  Sit- 
ting on  the  bench  by  Aniela's  side,  I  had  the  blissful  il- 
lusion that  I  was  sitting  with  my  affianced  wife.  From 
time  to  time  I  looked  at  the  sweet,  dear  profile,  at  the 
hands  which  were  resting  on  the  desk  before  her,  and 
the  concentration  in  her  face  and  bearing  gradually  in- 
fected me.  My  senses  went  to  sleep,  my  thoughts  be- 
came purer,  and  I  loved  her  at  that  moment  with  an 
ideal  love,  because  I  felt  more  than  ever  how  different 
she  was  from  any  other  woman,  how  infinitely  better  and 
purer. 

For  a  long  time  I  had  not  felt  anything  like  what  I 
felt  in  this  quiet  village  church.  Added  to  Aniela's 
presence  there  was  the  impressive  dignity  of  the  church 
itself,  the  soft,  flickering  light  of  the  candles  in  the  dim 
recess  of  the  altar,  shafts  of  colored  light  coming  through 
the  windows,  the  chirping  sparrows,  and  the  still  mass. 
All  this,  with  the  dreaminess  of  an  early  morning,  had 
something  unutterably  soothing.  My  thoughts  began  to 
flow  as  evenly  as  the  incense  at  the  altar.  Kobler  feel- 
ings stirred  within  me,  and  a  desire  to  sacrifice  my  own 
self.     An  inward  voice  began  to  remonstrate  :  — 

"  Do  not  disturb  that  transparent  water ;  respect  its 
purity." 

When  the  mass  came  to  an  end,  and  we  left  the  church, 
I  saw,  to  my  greatest  amazement,  both  the  Laty^es 
crouching  near  the  church  gate,  with  wooden  plates  in 
their  hands,  asking  for  alms.  My  aunt,  who  knew  about 
my  gift,  grew  very  angry  upon  seeing  them  there,  and 
began  to  abuse  them  roundly.  But  the  old  woman,  still 
holding  out  her  wooden  plate,  and  not  at  all  abashed,, 
said  quietly :  — 


200  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

"  His  lordship's  generosity  is  one  thing,  and  God's  will 
is  another.  We  must  not  go  against  the  Lord's  will. 
When  the  little  Lord  Jesus  told  us  to  sit  here,  we  must, 
now  and  forever  and  ever,  Amen." 

There  was  nothing  to  say  against  this  kind  of  reason- 
ing ;  especially  that  "  forever  and  ever.  Amen,"  imposed 
upon  me,  to  such  an  extent  that  I  gave  them  some  money 
for  the  oddity  of  the  thing.  These  people  at  the  bottom 
of  their  hearts  believe  in  fate,  which  they  dress  up  in 
Christian  forms,  and  submit  to  it  blindly.  These 
Latyszes,  to  whom  I  gave  a  thousand  two  hundred 
roubles,  are  now  better  off  than  they  ever  were  in  their 
lives,  and  yet  they  went  to  sit  at  the  church  gates  be- 
cause such  was  their  fate,  —  which  the  old  woman  trans- 
lated into  the  "  will  of  God." 

When  we  were  wending  our  way  homewards,  the  bells 
were  ringing  for  high  mass.  On  the  road  appeared 
groups  of  men  and  women.  From  the  more  distant  ham- 
lets one  could  see  them  going  Indian  file  along  the  nar- 
row paths  amid  the  corn,  which,  though  still  green,  had 
shot  up  to  a  considerable  height,  owing  to  the  early 
spring.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  in  the  pure  trans- 
lucid  atmosphere,  the  bright  colored  kerchiefs  of  the  girls 
appeared  above  the  wheat-fields  like  so  many  poppy 
flowers.  By  the  bye,  there  is  nowhere  in  Europe  such 
a  breadth  of  atmosphere  as  in  Poland.  What  struck  me 
most  of  all  was  the  distinctly  Sunday  character  of  the 
day,  not  in  the  people  alone,  but  also  in  nature.  It  is 
true  the  weather  was  splendid,  but  it  seemed  as  if  the 
wind  were  hushed  because  it  was  Sunday ;  even  the  corn 
did  not  rock,  not  a  leaf  shook  on  the  poplars,  the  stillness 
was  perfect ;  yet  there  was  the  cheerfulness  of  the  Sun- 
day in  the  festive  garments,  and  in  the  dancing  sunbeams. 

I  explained  to  Aniela  how,  from  an  artistic  point  of 
view,  those  bright  spots  harmonized  with  the  landscape 
and  melted  in  the  distance  into  a  blue  haze.  Then  we 
began  to  talk  about  the  peasants.  I  confessed  that  I  did 
not  see  anything  but  a  crowd  of  more  or  less  picturesque 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  201 

models ;  but  Aniela  looks  at  them  from  a  quite  different 
point  of  view.  She  began  telling  me  many  characteristic 
traits,  some  sad,  and  some  amusing,  and  while  talking 
grew  very  animated,  and  at  the  same  time  as  lovely  as 
a  summer's  dream. 

The  conversation  again  drifted  towards  the  old  couple 
we  had  left  sitting  under  the  church  gate,  and  especially 
the  old  woman,  whose  reasoning  had  amused  us  so  much. 
I  began  comparing  her  position  to  my  own.  As  my  aunt 
remained  with  Pani  Celina,  whom  the  servant  wheeled 
along  at  a  certain  distance  behind,  I  could  with  freedom 
allude  to  our  last  conversation  in  the  park. 

"  Not  long  ago,"  I  said,  "  I  asked  you  for  alms,  and 
you  bestowed  them  on  me.  I  see  now  that  this  does  not 
bind  me  to  anything,  and  I  may  again  hold  out  my 
wooden  platter  at  the  church  gate." 

"  Eh  !  to  ask  other  charitable  souls  for  the  same,"  re- 
plied Aniela.  "  Aunty  is  going  to  invite  one  charitable 
soul  to  Ploszow,  I  understand." 

"  If  it  is  Miss  Hilst  you  mean,  she  is  too  big  to  find 
room  in  a  single  heart ;  it  wants  three  at  least  to  hold 
her,"  but  Aniela  did  not  leave  ofE  teasing,  and  shaking 
her  little  finger  at  me,  said :  — 

"  It  is  a  suspicious  case,  very  suspicious." 

"At  present  there  is  no  ground  for  suspicion,"  I  re- 
plied. "  My  heart  is  a  repository  of  brotherly  feelings, 
and  there  reigns  supreme  the  spiteful  little  being  who 
is  tormenting  me  at  present." 

Aniela  ceased  laughing  and  jesting,  slackened  her  pace, 
and  presently  we  joined  the  elder  ladies.  The  remainder 
of  the  day  passed  without  a  cloud,  and  so  pleasantly  that 
at  times  I  fancied  myself  again  a  schoolboy.  My  eyes  still 
spoke  to  her  of  love  ;  but  my  desires  slept.  My  aunt  went 
to  Warsaw  after  lunch,  and  I  remained  in  Pani  Celina's 
room,  reading  to  her  Montalembert's  letters,  with  whom 
my  father  at  one  time  had  a  regular  correspondence. 
These  letters  would  have  seemed  very  tedious  to  me  but 
for  Aniela's  presence.    Eaising  my  eyes  now  and  then,  I 


202  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

met  lier  glance,  which  filled  me  with  inexpressible  joy. 
Unless  I  have  lost  all  power  of  judgment,  she  looks  at 
me  as  would  look  a  pure,  innocent  woman,  unconsciously 
loving  with  all  her  soul.     What  a  good  day  it  has  been  ! 

My  aunt  came  back  towards  evening,  and  announced 
visitors.  To-morrow  both  the  Sniatynskis  are  coming,  and 
Clara  Hilst. 

It  is  very  late,  but  I  do  not  want  to  sleep,  for  I  am 
loathe  to  part  with  the  memories  of  the  day.  Sleep  can- 
not be  more  beautiful.  The  park  is  literally  alive  with 
the  song  of  the  nightingales,  and  there  is  still  in  me  a 
great  deal  of  the  old  romanticist.  The  night  is  clear  and 
limpid,  and  the  sky  full  of  stars.  Thinking  of  Aniela,  I 
say  a  hundred  times  good-night  to  her.  I  see  that  side 
by  side  with  the  improductivite  Slave,  there  is  in  me  a 
great  deal  of  purely  Polish  sentimentality.  I  had  not 
known  myself  in  that  capacity  before.  But  what  does  it 
matter  ?  I  love  her  very  much. 


13  May. 
Clara  and  the  Sniatynskis  have  not  arrived.  Instead 
of  this,  there  came  a  letter,  informing  us  they  would  come 
to-morrow,  the  weather  permitting.  To-day  we  had  a 
thunder-storm,  the  like  of  which  they  have  not  experi- 
enced here  for  a  long  time.  About  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning  a  hot  wind  rose,  which  smothered  everything  in 
clouds  of  dust.  The  wind  fell  at  times,  and  then  rose 
again  with  such  fury  that  it  seemed  to  lay  the  trees  flat. 
Our  beautiful  park  was  filled  with  the  sound  of  crashing 
branches,  and  clouds  of  dust  mingled  with  torn-off  leaves 
and  twigs.  The  great  lime-tree  close  to  the  pavilion, 
where  young  Latysz  died,  was  split  in  two.  It  was  fear- 
fully close,  there  was  no  air,  and  the  wind  seemed  to 
come  straight  from  a  heated  furnace,  and  carried  with  it 
a  breath  of  carbon.  I,  used  to  the  Italian  scirocco,  did 
not  mind  it  so  much,  but  Pani  Celina  suffered  greatly, 
and  indirectly,  Aniela.    My  aunt  was  in  a  bad  temper 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  203 

about  the  damage  done  to  the  park,  and  as  usual,  vented 
it  on  Chwastowski,  The  peppery  old  gentleman,  who 
probably  was  caned  often  enough  over  his  Homer,  had 
evidently  not  forgotten  the  Odyssey,  nor  his  ready  speech 
either,  for  he  replied  to  my  aunt  that  if  he  were  ^olus 
he  would  not  serve  her  as  agent,  and  bear  with  her  un- 
just tantrums.  My  aunt  gave  way  this  time,  merely  be- 
cause of  the  redoubled  threats  from  the  skies.  It  had 
grown  very  still  all  at  once,  but  from  the  south,  banks  of 
cloud,  black  as  a  funereal  pall,  overcast  with  a  sickly  red 
sheen,  came  rolling  up.  In  a  moment  it  grew  as  dark  as 
night,  and  Pani  Celina  rung  for  lights.  Shortly  after- 
wards the  darkness  yielded  to  an  ominous  reddish  light. 
Chwastowski  rushed  off  in  a  hurry  to  give  orders  for  the 
cattle  to  be  driven  home,  but  the  cow-herds  had  started 
without  waiting  for  orders,  for  presently  we  heard  dis- 
tinctly the  mournful  lowing  of  the  cattle.  Then  my  aunt 
fetched  the  bell  of  Our  Lady  of  Loreto,  and  went  around 
the  house  ringing  energetically.  I  did  not  even  try  to 
explain  to  her  that  ringing  a  bell  in  that  motionless  at- 
mosphere might  rather  attract  than  avert  a  thunderbolt, 
and  in  spite  of  the  consciousness  that  in  case  of  danger 
I  could  not  be  of  the  slightest  help,  I  was  ashamed  to 
let  her  risk  the  danger  alone.  The  old  lady  was  simply 
magnificent  when,  with  her  head  thrown  back,  she  seemed 
to  defy  the  black  and  copper-colored  banks  of  clouds,  and 
shook  at  them  her  Loreto  bell.  I  did  not  regret  hav- 
ing gone  with  her,  if  only  to  see  a  symbolic  picture.  At 
a  moment  when  everything  trembles  before  the  approach- 
ing horror,  crouches  in  terror  almost  stupefied,  faith  alone 
has  no  fear  ;  it  defies,  and  rings  a  bell.  This  is,  from  what- 
ever side  we  look  at  it,  an  element  of  incalculable  power 
in  the  human  soul. 

We  returned  when  the  first  thunder  began  to  growl  all 
around  the  horizon.  A  few  minutes  later  the  roar  be- 
came incessant.  I  had  a  sensation  as  if  the  thunder 
rolled  on  the  lower  stratum  of  the  clouds,  and  the  whole 
mass  would  burst  at  any  moment  and  come  with  a  deafen- 


204  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

ing  crash  upon  the  earth.  A  thunderbolt  fell  into  the 
pond  at  the  other  end  of  the  park,  followed  by  another 
so  close  by  that  the  house  shook  on  its  foundations.  My 
ladies  began  to  say  the  Litany  ;  I  felt  uncertain  what  to 
do ;  if  I  joined  them  it  would  be  hypocrisy  on  my  part, 
and  if  I  did  not  it  would  look  as  if  I  were  showing  my- 
self off  as  an  ill-bred  wiseacre,  who  cannot  make  allow- 
ance for  country  customs  and  female  terrors.  But  I  was 
wrong  ;  they  were  not  afraid  ;  their  faces  were  calm,  even 
serene.  It  was  evident  that  the  familiar  Litany  was  to 
them  a  sufficient  armor  against  all  dangers,  and  that  there 
was  no  fear  in  their  hearts.  The  thought  crossed  my 
mind  what  a  stranger  in  spirit  I  was  in  presence  of  these 
Polish  women,  of  whom  each  knows  ten  times  less  than 
I,  and  according  to  human  measure,  is  worth  ten  times 
as  much  as  I.  They  are  like  books  of  comparatively  few 
pages,  each  page  containing  clear  and  simple  rules, 
whereas  I,  with  all  those  volumes  of  which  I  am  com- 
posed, do  not  possess  a  single  undoubted  truth. 

It  was  but  a  passing  thought,  as  presently  the  storm 
that  broke  upon  us  with  terrific  force  engaged  all  my 
attention.  The  wind  rose  again,  crashing  among  the 
trees.  It  fell  at  moments,  and  then  the  rain  came  down 
in  streams ;  no  drops  were  visible,  but  long  spouts  that 
seemed  to  join  sky  and  earth.  The  avenues  in  the  park 
were  like  foaming  brooks.  Sometimes  a  strong  gust  of 
wind  whipped  the  water  into  a  fine  spray  that  hung 
between  earth  and  sky  and  obscured  the  whole  view. 
The  deafening  roar  of  thunder  went  on  incessantly. 
The  air  was  saturated  with  electricity.  My  pulses  were 
beating  loudly ;  in  the  rooms  an  irritating  smell  of  sul- 
phur made  itself  felt.  The  raging  elements  without 
seemed  to  influence  me  in  a  strange  way,  and  I  began 
to  lose  control  over  myself. 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  the  storm  ?  "   I  asked  Aniela. 

"  Very  well.     Where  from  ?  " 

"  Come  into  the  next  room,  there  is  a  larger  window." 

We  went  and  stood  at  the  window.     It  was  very  dark 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  205 

then,  and  every  moment  white  and  red  forks  of  light- 
ning tore  across  the  clouds,  opening  the  skies  and  at  the 
same  time  illuminating  our  faces  and  the  dark  world 
without.  Aniela  was  calm,  but  seemed  every  moment 
more  desirable. 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"No." 

"  Give  me  your  hand." 

She  looked  at  me  wonderingly.  Another  moment  and 
I  should  have  folded  her  in  my  arms  and  pressed  my 
lips  against  hers,  and  then  let  Ploszow  be  razed  to  the 
ground,  by  the  tempest.  But  she  was  terrified,  not  by  the 
storm,  but  by  the  expression  of  my  face  and  that  whisper ; 
she  drew  back  from  the  window  and  returned  to  the  room 
where  the  elder  ladies  were  sitting. 

I  remained  alone,  —  with  a  feeling  of  anger  and  humilia- 
tion. That  I  should  have  taken  advantage  of  Aniela's 
confidence  is  quite  certain,  and  yet  I  felt  offended  by  her 
want  of  trust,  and  resolved  to  pay  her  out  in  some  way. 
I  stood  for  an  hour  at  the  window  looking  absently  at 
the  lightning  flashes.  Then  it  grew  lighter  and  lighter 
outside  ;  at  last  the  clouds  parted,  and  the  sun  shone 
forth  fresh  and  bright  and  as  if  wondering  at  the  devas- 
tation the  tempest  had  wrought. 

It  was  very  considerable ;  the  avenues  were  still  flooded 
with  yellow,  foaming  water,  above  which  floated  broken 
branches.  Here  and  there  big  trees  were  lying  about, 
snapped  across  or  torn  out  by  the  roots ;  the  bark  was 
partly  stripped  from  the  trunks  of  pine  trees,  leaving  what 
looked  like  gaping  wounds.  Everywhere  the  eye  could 
reach  there  was  ruin  and  devastation,  as  if  after  a  battle. 
When  the  water  had  drained  off  a  little  I  went  out 
toward  the  ponds  to  ascertain  the  extent  of  the  damage. 
Suddenly  the  whole  park  became  alive  with  people,  who, 
with  an  almost  savage  energy,  began  to  tear  off  the 
broken  branches  and  chop  at  the  fallen  trunks.  It  ap- 
pears they  were  peasant-lodgers  who  had  no  right  in  the 
woods.     In  the  main,  I  did  not  care  whether  they  gath- 


206  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

ered  the  sticks,  but  as  they  had  come  through  the  broken 
fence  without  permission,  and  in  sucli  a  savage  manner, 
I,  being  out  of  humor,  began  to  drive  them  away,  my 
anger  rising  at  their  stubborn  resistance.  At  last  I 
threatened  them  with  the  village  authorities,  when  sud- 
denly, close  by,  the  sweetest  voice  in  the  world  said  in 
French :  — 

"  Is  there  any  harm  in  their  clearing  the  park,  Leon  ?" 

I  turned  round  and  saw  Aniela,  her  head  covered  with 
a  kerchief  tied  under  her  chin.  With  both  hands  she 
was  holding  up  her  dress,  showing  up  to  the  ankles  her 
little  feet  encased  in  high  boots  ;  bending  slightly  for- 
ward she  looked  at  me  entreatingly. 

At  her  sight  my  anger  vanished  at  once.  I  forgot  the 
unpleasant  sensations  that  had  troubled  me  a  little  while 
before,  and  looked  at  her  as  if  I  could  never  fill  myself 
enough  with  the  sight. 

"  Is  it  your  wish  ?  "  I  asked. 

Then,  turning  to  the  people,  I  said  :  — 

"  Take  the  wood,  and  thank  the  lady  for  the  permis- 
sion." 

This  time  they  obej'ed  with  alacrity.  Some  of  them, 
evidently  strangers  to  Ploszow,  addressed  her  as  "  gracious 
Panienka  "  (Miss),  which  caused  me  unspeakable  delight. 
If  Ploszow  were  mine  they  might  cut  down  every  tree 
at  her  wish.  In  half  an  hour  every  broken  branch  and 
fallen  tree  was  cleared  away,  and  the  park  looked  really 
all  the  better  for  it.  Walking  with  Aniela  along  the 
paths  I  found  a  great  many  swallows  and  other  birds, 
either  killed  by  the  storm  or  half  dead  and  drenched  with 
rain.  I  picked  them  up,  and  handing  them  one  by  one 
to  Aniela,  I  touched  her  hands,  looked  into  her  eyes,  and 
again  felt  happy.  The  idyl  of  the  day  before  repeated 
itself  for  us  both,  and  brought  with  it  ease  and  cheerful- 
ness. My  heart  was  full  of  joy,  for  I  saw  what  Aniela 
could  not  see,  —  that  in  our  brotherly  relation  there  was 
twice  as  much  tenderness  as  would  be  or  ought  to  be 
between  the  most  loving  brother  and  sister.     I  was  quite 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  207 

Sure  now  that,  unconsciously,  she  loved  me  as  much  as 
I  loved  her.  In  this  way  one  half  of  my  hopes  and 
schemes  are  realized  already ;  there  remains  only  to 
bring  it  home  to  her  and  make  her  own  to  the  feeling. 
When  I  think  of  that  I  remember,  with  a  heart  beating 
fast  with  happiness,  what  I  wrote  down  some  time  ago: 
that  "no  woman  in  the  world  can  resist  the  man  she 
truly  loves." 


15  May. 

Our  visitors  did  not  come  yesterday  but  to-day,  Avhich 
was  very  sensible,  as  all  traces  of  the  storm  have  disap- 
peared and  the  weather  is  very  fine.  This  fifteenth  of 
May  will  be  one  of  the  best  remembered  days  in  my  life. 
It  is  now  past  midnight;  I  am  wide  awake,  as  if  I  never 
wanted  to  sleep  again,  and  intend  to  write  until  morning. 
I  am  collecting  my  thoughts  so  as  not  to  begin  at  the  end, 
and  put  it  all  down  in  proper  order.  Force  of  habit  is  a 
great  help  in  this. 

My  aunt  sent  the  carriage  for  the  Sniatynskis  and 
Clara  very  early,  in  consequence  of  which  they  arrived 
before  noon.  The  ladies  were  bright,  cheerful,  and  chirp- 
ing like  sparrows,  glad  of  the  fine  weather  and  their  ex- 
cursion. What  toilets,  and  what  quaint  hats !  Clara 
looked  very  well  in  a  light,  striped  dress  that  made  her 
seem  less  tall  than  usual.  I  observed  that  Aniela,  after 
the  first  greeting,  looked  at  her  searchingly  and  seemed 
struck  by  her  beauty,  of  which  I  had  scarcely  said  any- 
thing to  her.  I  had  not  refrained  out  of  calculation,  but 
had  been  so  occupied  with  Aniela  that  I  had  not  thought 
of  it.  For  instance,  though  I  had  met  Pani  Sniatynska 
several  times  I  had  never  noticed  she  wore  her  liair 
short,  which  suits  her  style  of  beauty.  The  light,  curly 
hair  falling  over  her  brow  gives  her  the  expression  of  a 
resolute,  rosy-faced  boy.  We  are  excellent  friends  again. 
There  was  a  time  she  would  have  liked  to  kill  me,  so 
angry  was  she  about  Aniela.      Evidently  her  husband 


208  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

had  told  her  what  I  suffered,  and  women  have  a  special 
weakness  for  those  who  suffer  for  love's  sake  ;  she 
has  forgiven  me  and  reinstalled  me  in  her  favor.  The 
presence  of  such  a  bright,  vivacious,  easy-going  woman 
was  a  great  help  in  bringing  Clara  and  Aniela  into  closer 
relation.  I  saw  that  my  aunt  met  Clara  with  great  hearti- 
ness ;  but  Aniela,  in  spite  of  her  sweet  disposition,  seemed 
shy,  and  kept  aloof  from  her.  At  lunch,  amid  a  cheerful 
conversation,  she  thawed  a  little.  Clara  seemed  struck 
by  Aniela's  beauty,  and  as  she  always  says  what  she 
thinks,  she  expressed  her  admiration  with  so  much  grace 
and  enthusiasm  that  Aniela  had  to  yield. 

Pani  Celina,  who  now  perhaps  for  the  first  time 
found  herself  in  company  with  an  artist,  looked  grati- 
fied, and  turning  to  her  said  that  "though  Aniela's 
mother,  she  must  say  that  as  a  child  she  was  very 
pretty,  —  promising  far  greater  beauty."  Both  Sniatyn- 
skis  joined  in  the  conversation.  He  began  to  discuss 
with  Clara  various  female  types,  then  spoke  of  Aniela's 
type  and  its  aesthetic  perfection  in  a  highly  amusing 
objective  manner,  as  if  she  were  a  portrait  hanging  on 
the  wall,  rather  than  a  living  presence.  She,  listening 
to  this,  blushed  and  lowered  her  eyes,  truly  like  a  little 
girl,  which  made  her  look  more  charming  than  ever. 

I  was  silent,  but  inwardly  compared  these  three  female 
faces,  treating  them  also  objectively,  that  is,  putting 
aside  the  fact  that  one  of  them  was  the  loved  one, 
and  as  such  occupied  an  exceptional  position ;  even  then 
everything  spoke  in  her  favor.  Pani  Sniatynska's,  es- 
pecially in  her  short  curly  hair,  is  a  charming  head,  yet 
nothing  but  what  may  be  found  in  any  English  Keepsake. 
Clara's  beauty  rests  mainly  upon  her  calm  expression, 
the  blue  eyes,  and  that  transparent  complexion  so  often 
met  with  in  German  women ;  but  for  her  art,  which  sur- 
rounds her  as  with  a  nimbus,  she  could  only  be  called  a 
handsome  woman.  Aniela  is  not  only  an  artistic  pro- 
duction of  an  exceedingly  noble  style  as  regards  her 
features,  but  there  is  something  individual  in  her  that 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  209 

cannot  be  measured  by  any  standard.  Maybe  her  indi- 
viduality rests  upon  the  fact  that,  being  neither  dark  nor 
fair,  she  gives  the  physical  impression  of  a  brunette  and 
the  spiritual  one  of  a  blonde.  The  cause  of  this  is  per- 
haps the  great  abundance  of  hair  on  a  comparatively 
small  head ;  enough  that  she  is  unique  in  her  kind.  She 
excels  even  Mrs.  Davis  in  this  regard,  whose  beauty  was 
without  a  flaw,  but  it  was  the  beauty  of  a  statue,  Mrs. 
Davis  only  excited  the  admiration  of  my  senses,  while 
Aniela  rouses  in  me  the  idealist,  who  goes  in  rapture 
over  the  poetry  of  her  expression. 

But  I  will  not  even  compare  these  two  so  utterly  dif- 
ferent beings.  I  yielded  to  these  reflections  during 
lunch,  because  the  topic  in  question  had  brought  me  on 
that  track;  besides,  the  analysis  of  Aniela's  beauty  always 
gives  me  a  keen  delight.  My  aunt  interrupted  the  dis- 
cussion, deeming  it  proper,  as  lady  of  the  house,  to  say 
something  about  Clara's  last  concert.  She  spoke  much 
and  very  well ;  I  never  supposed  she  had  such  knowl- 
edge of  music ;  she  paid  her  some  graceful  compliments 
with  the  air  of  a  grandę  dame,  in  that  flowing,  winning 
style  only  people  of  the  older  generation  are  capable  of. 
In  short,  I  observed  that  my  downright,  outspoken  aunt 
was  still  able  to  recall  the  times  of  powder  and  patches. 
Clara  seemed  quite  charmed,  and  did  not  remain  behind- 
hand in  graceful  acknowledgment. 

"  I  shall  always  be  able  to  play  well  at  Warsaw,"  she 
said,  "because  I  am  in  touch  with  my  audience,  but  I 
play  best  in  small  circles  of  friends  where  I  feel  in  sym- 
pathy with  everybody,  —  and  if  you  will  permit,  I  will 
give  you  a  proof  of  it  after  lunch." 

My  aunt,  who  was  very  anxious  that  Pani  Celina  should 
hear  her,  yet  had  misgivings  Avhether  it  would  be  right 
to  ask  her  to  play,  was  much  pleased  by  the  proposal. 
I  began  to  speak  of  Clara's  performances  at  Paris  and 
her  triumphs  at  Erard's  concerts  ;  Sniatynski  gave  an 
account  of  what  was  said  at  Warsaw ;  and  so  the  time 
passed  until  we  rose  from  lunch.     Clara  herself  got  hold 

14 


210  WITHOUT  DOGMA, 

of  Pani  Celina's  invalid  chair  and  would  not  allow  any- 
body to  help,  declaring  laughingly  that  she  was  by  far 
the  strongest  among  us,  and  was  not  afraid  to  tire  her 
hands.  Presently  she  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and  as 
evidently  Mozart  suited  her  disposition,  she  gave  us  Don 
Juan.  The  first  notes  sounded,  she  was  a  different 
Clara ;  not  the  merry,  lively  child  any  longer,  but  an  in- 
carnate Saint  Cecilia.  There  shone  in  her  the  close 
relationship  of  outward  form  with  the  spirit  of  harmony, 
which  surrounded  her  with  a  dignity  above  common 
womanhood.  I  made  another  observation,  namely  :  that 
a  man  in  love  can  find  food  for  his  feelings  even  in  what 
tells  against  the  loved  woman.  When  I  thought  how 
far  my  Aniela  was  from  being  a  Sybil,  saw  her  sitting  in 
a  corner  of  the  drawing-room  so  small  and  still,  as  if 
crushed  down  by  some  weight,  1  loved  her  all  the  more, 
and  it  made  her  if  possible  dearer  to  me  than  ever.  It 
also  occurred  to  me  that  a  woman  is  not  in  reality  what 
she  appears  to  people  in  general,  but  such  as  the  man 
who  loves  sees  her ;  therefore  her  absolute  excellence  is 
in  proportion  to  the  power  of  love  she  inspires.  I  had 
no  time  to  follow  out  this  idea,  but  it  pleased  me  because 
I  saw  dimly  before  me  the  conclusion  that  in  the  name 
of  this  excellence  the  woman  ought  to  give  her  heart  to 
him  who  loves  her  most. 

Clara  played  superbly.  I  watched  the  sensation  on 
the  others'  faces,  when  presently  I  noticed  that  Aniela 
was  looking  at  me  for  the  same  reason.  Was  it  mere 
curiosity,  or  an  involuntary  uneasiness  of  heart  which 
could  not  say  what  it  feared  and  yet  was  afraid  ?  I  said 
to  myself :  "  If  the  last  supposition  were  true  it  would 
be  a  proof  that  she  loves  me."  The  thought  filled  me 
with  joy,  and  I  resolved  to  find  an  answer  to  it  in  the 
course  of  the  day.  Thenceforth  I  bestowed  all  my  atten- 
tion upon  Clara,  and  was  more  attentive  to  her  than  I  had 
ever  been  before.  In  the  woods  whither  we  had  driven, 
I  walked  with  her,  glancing  furtively  now  and  then 
at  Aniela,  who  remained  with  the  Suiatynskis.     Clara 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  211 

was  in  rapture  with  the  woods,  which  are  indeed  at  their 
best  now,  the  fresh  green  of  the  leafy  trees  forming  a 
perfect  canopy  over  the  more  sombre  looking  pines. 

The  sun  filtering  across  the  branches  converted  the 
earth,  carpeted  with  ferns  and  tender  mosses,  into  a 
delicate  golden  embroidery.  There  were  the  cheerful 
voices  of  spring  around  us,  the  cuckoo's  call  and  the 
woodpecker's  knock-knock  at  the  trees.  When  we 
joined  the  others  I  asked  Clara  to  translate  into  music 
the  voices  of  spring.  She  said  there  was  already  a 
Fmhlingslied  singing  within  her,  and  she  would  try  to 
give  it  expression.  Truly  she  looked  as  if  the  song  was 
there,  —  besides  she  is  like  a  great  harp  that  speaks  only 
in  sounds. 

Her  face  was  bright  with  burning  blushes  ;  Aniela  in^ 
stead  looked  fagged,  though  she  evidently  tried  to  keep 
up  with  the  Sniatynskis,  who  were  as  lively  as  a  couple 
of  school-children  on  their  holiday.  They  began  finally 
to  race  with  each  other,  and  Clara  joined  in  the  sport, 
which  she  ought  not  to  have  done,  considering  her  size, 
as  the  quick  motion  was  anything  but  graceful,  —  nay, 
almost  ridiculous. 

When  they  were  thus  running  after  each  other  I 
remained  alone  with  Aniela.  According  to  my  plan  of 
operations  I  was  anxious  to  bring  her  mind  to  full  con- 
sciousness through  the  uneasiness  with  which  she  seemed 
to  be  oppressed. 

"There  is  something  troubling  you,  Aniela;  what  is 
it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"No,  nothing  whatever." 

"It  seemed  to  me  as  if  you  were  dissatisfied  with 
something;   is  it  that  you  do  not  like  Clara?" 

"  No ;  I  like  her  very  much,  and  do  not  wonder  she  ia 
so  much  admired." 

Further  conversation  was  made  impossible  by  the 
return  of  the  truants.  It  was  also  time  to  go  back.  On 
the  way,  Sniatynski  asked  Clara  whether  she  felt  really 
45atisfied  with  her  stay  at  Warsaw. 


212  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

'<  The  best  proof  I  can  give  you  of  this  is  that  I  do 
not  think  of  going  away  yet,"  she  replied  gayly. 

"  We  must  try  to  keep  you  with  us  always,"  I  inter- 
polated. 

Clara,  in  spite  of  the  simplicity  with  which  she  ac- 
cepts all  that  is  said  to  her,  looked  questioningly  at  me, 
then  grew  a  little  confused,  and  replied,  — 

"  They  are  all  very  kind  to  me  here." 

I  was  conscious  that  my  words  were  in  a  way  dis- 
honorable, as  they  might  mislead  Clara ;  but  all  I  cared 
for  was  the  impression  they  would  make  upon  Aniela. 
Unfortunately,  I  could  not  see  her  face,  as  she  was 
buttoning  her  gloves,  with  her  head  bent  so  low  that 
her  hat  concealed  it  from  me.  This  sudden  movement 
seemed  to  me  a  good  sign. 

The  elder  ladies  were  awaiting  us  with  the  dinner, 
which  lasted  until  nine  o'clock  ;  and  then  Clara  impro- 
vised her  Fruhl'mgslied.  I  am  almost  certain  that  since 
Ploszow  existed  there  had  never  been  heard  such  music 
within  its  walls,  but  I  paid  very  little  attention  to  it.  I 
sat  near  her  in  the  dusk,  as  she  did  not  want  the  lamps 
lit.  Sniatynski  waved  his  arm  as  if  it  were  a  baton ; 
which  evidently  annoyed  his  wife,  as  she  pulled  his  sleeve 
several  times.  Aniela  sat  quite  motionless  ;  maybe  she, 
too,  was  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts,  and  did  not  listen 
to  the  Fruhlingslied.  I  was  almost  certain  she  was 
thinking  about  me  and  Clara,  and  especially  about  the 
meaning  of  the  words  I  had  said  to  Clara.  It  was  easy 
enough  to  guess  that  even  if  she  did  not  love  me,  or  had 
the  slightest  consciousness  that  my  love  was  any  other 
but  brotherly  affection,  she  would  feel  sore  and  disap- 
pointed if  that  were  about  to  be  taken  away  from  her. 
A  woman  who  is  not  happy  in  her  married  life  clings 
round  any  other  feeling,  if  it  be  only  friendship,  as  the 
ivy  clings  to  the  tree.  I  had  no  doubt  whatever  that  if 
at  this  moment  I  knelt  down  at  her  feet  and  told  her  it 
was  she,  and  she  alone,  that  I  loved,  she  would  feel  a 
sudden  joy,  as  one  feels  upon  recovering  something  very 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  213 

precious.  And  if  so,  I  debated  within  me,  why  not  hasten 
the  solution,  if  only  a  way  could  be  found,  —  frightening 
her  as  little  as  possible,  or  making  her  forget  all  terror 
in  her  joy.  I  began  at  once  to  devise  ways  and  means,  as 
I  understood  it  must  be  done  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it 
forever  impossible  for  her  to  cast  me  off.  My  mind  worked 
very  hard  at  it,  as  the  problem  was  not  an  easy  one. 
Gradually  a  great  emotion  stole  over  me ;  and  strange  to 
say,  it  was  more  on  Aniela's  account  than  on  my  own 
that  I  felt  moved,  —  for  I  realized  suddenly  what  a  great 
wrench  it  would  be,  and  I  was  afraid  for  her. 

In  the  mean  time  it  had  grown  lighter  in  the  drawing- 
room  ;  the  moon  had  risen  above  the  trees,  and  cast 
luminous  shafts  across  the  floor.  The  melodies  of  the 
Fi-iihlingslied  still  filled  the  air,  and  the  nightingales 
responded  to  it  through  the  open  French  window.  It 
was  a  glorious  evening,  warm  and  balmy,  and  full  of 
harmony  and  love.  I  thought  involuntarily  that,  if  life 
does  not  give  us  happiness,  it  presents  us  with  a  ready 
frame  for  it. 

In  the  luminous  dusk  my  eyes  searched  for  Aniela;  but 
she  looked  at  Clara,  who  at  this  moment  seemed  more  a 
vision  than  a  substantial  being.  The  moonlight,  advancing 
more  and  more  into  the  room,  rested  now  upon  her ;  and 
in  the  light  dress  she  looked  like  the  silvery  spirit  of  mu- 
sic. But  the  vision  did  not  last  long.  Clara  finished  her 
song;  whereupon  Pani  Sniatynska  rose,  and  saying  it  was 
late,  gave  the  signal  for  departure.  As  the  evening  was 
so  warm,  I  proposed  we  should  see  our  visitors  off  as  far 
as  the  high-road,  about  half  a  mile  from  our  house.  I  did 
this  on  purpose,  so  as  to  walk  home  with  Aniela.  I  knew 
she  could  not  well  refuse  such  a  mere  act  of  politeness, 
and  I  was  also  sure  my  aunt  would  not  go  with  us. 

I  gave  orders  for  the  carriage  to  drive  on  and  wait  on 
the  road,  and  we  went  on  foot  through  the  lime  avenue. 
I  offered  my  arm  to  Clara,  but  we  walked  all  abreast, 
accompanied  by  the  croaking  of  the  frogs  in  the  Ploszow 
mere. 


214  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Clara  stopped  a  moment  to  listen  to   that  chorus, 

which    ceased    now   and    then,    to    start    afresh    with 

redoubled   vigor,   and   said,  — 

"  This  is  the  finale  of  my  Song  of  Spring." 

"  What  an  exquisite  evening  !  "  remarked  Sniatynski, 

and  then  began  to  quote  the  beautiful  lines  from  the 

"  Merchant  of  Venice  "  :  — 

"  How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bankl 
Here  will  we  sit  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears  :  soft  stillness  and  the  night 
Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony." 

He  did  not  remember  the  rest,  but  I  did,  and  took  up 
the  strain :  — 

"  Sit,  Jessica.     Look  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold : 
There  's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubins; 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls  ; 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it." 

Then  I  repeated  to  Clara,  who  does  not  understand 
Polish,  the  lines  in  French,  improvising  the  translation. 
She  listened  to  it,  then  raised  her  eyes  heavenward,  and 
said  simply,  — 

"  I  was  always  certain  there  is  music  in  the  spheres." 
It  appeared  that  Pani  Sniatynska  was  equally  certain 
of  it,  and  reminded  her  husband  that  she  had  discussed 
it  with  him  not  long  before,  but  he  was  not  quite  sure  he 
remembered  ;  whereupon  a  slight  matrimonial  dispute 
took  place,  at  which  Clara  and  I  laughed.  Aniela  had 
not  joined  the  conversation  at  all ;  did  she  feel  hurt  that 
I  had  offered  my  arm  to  Clara,  and  paid  her  some  atten- 
tion ?  The  very  supposition  made  me  feel  happy.  Yet  I 
tried  not  to  lose  my  head,  and  said  to  myself,  "  Do  not  run 
away  with  the  idea  that  she  knows  what  jealousy  means  j 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  215 

she  is  only  a  little  sad  and  feels  lonely,  that  is  all."  I 
would  have  given  at  this  moment  a  whole  host  of  artists 
such  as  Clara  for  a  few  words  with  Aniela,  —  to  tell  her 
that  I  belong  to  her,  and  only  to  her.  Then  Sniatynski 
began  a  discussion  about  astronomy,  of  which  1  heard 
now  and  then  a  few  words,  though  this  science  attracts 
me  more  than  I  can  tell,  —  for  in  its  very  nature 
there  is  no  limit,  either  in  itself  or  for  the  human 
mind ;  it  is  infinite. 

We  reached  at  last  the  end,  where  our  guests  mounted 
into  the  carriage.  Presently  the  wheels  rattled  on  the 
road,  the  last  good-bys  reached  our  ears,  and  I  was  alone 
with  Aniela.  We  turned  homewards,  and  for  some  time 
walked  side  by  side  in  silence.  The  croaking  of  the 
frogs  has  ceased,  and  from  the  distance  came  the  sound 
of  the  watchman's  whistle  and  the  loud  baying  of  the 
dogs.  I  did  not  speak  to  Aniela,  because  the  silence 
seemed  fraught  with  deep  meaning,  —  both  our  minds 
being  full  of  the  same  subject.  When  about  half-way  I 
said  to  Aniela,  — 

"  What  a  pleasant  day  it  has  been,  has  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  never  heard  such  beautiful  music  before." 

"  And  yet  you  seemed  not  in  your  usual  spirits,  and 
though  you  will  not  tell  me  the  cause,  I  notice  every 
passing  cloud  on  your  face." 

"You  were  obliged  to  look  after  your  guests.  You 
are  very  kind  to  trouble  about  me,  but  there  is  nothing 
the  matter  with  me." 

"To-day  as  any  other  day  I  was  occupied  with  you 
only,  and  as  a  proof  of  it  let  me  tell  you  of  what  you 
were  thinking  to-day."  And  without  waiting  for  per- 
mission, I  went  on  at  once  :  "  You  thought  I  resembled 
somewhat  the  Latysz  couple;  you  thought  I  had  de- 
ceived you  in  speaking  of  the  void  around  me ;  lastly, 
you  thought  that  I  had  no  need  to  ask  for  your  friend- 
ship while  I  was  seeking  friendship  elsewhere.  Was  it 
not  so  ?     Tell  me  the  truth." 

Aniela  replied  with  evident  effort:    "If  you  insist 


216  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

upon  knowing  —  yes,  perhaps  it  is  so.    But  I  ought  to  be 
only  glad  of  it." 

"  What  ought  you  be  glad  of  ?  " 

"  Of  your  mutual  friendship  with  Clara." 

"  As  to  our  friendship,  —  I  wish  her  well,  that  is  all. 
But  Clara,  like  all  other  women,  is  indifferent  to  me. 
Do  you  know  why  ?  " 

I  began  to  tremble  a  little,  because  I  perceived  that 
the  moment  had  come.  I  waited  a  moment  to  see  whether 
Aniela  would  take  up  my  question,  and  then,  in  a  voice 
I  tried  to  render  steady,  I  said,  — 

"  Surely  you  must  see  and  understand  that  my  whole 
being  belongs  to  you  j  that  I  loved  you  and  love  you 
still  madly." 

Aniela  stood  still  as  if  turned  to  stone.  By  the  icy 
coldness  of  my  face  I  felt  that  I  was  growing  pale ;  and 
if  the  world  seemed  to  totter  under  that  poor  child's 
feet,  it  was  my  life,  too,  which  was  at  stake.  Knowing 
with  whom  I  had  to  deal,  I  did  not  give  her  time  to 
repulse  me.     I  began  to  speak  very  quickly  :  — 

"  Do  not  answer  me,  for  I  do  not  want  anything  from 
you.  I  desire  nothing,  —  nothing  whatever,  understand 
that  well.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  you  have  taken  my 
life,  and  it  is  henceforth  yours,  to  do  with  it  what  you 
like.  But  you  have  seen  yourself  that  such  is  the  case, 
and  it  matters  nothing  whether  I  speak  of  it  or  not.  I 
repeat  that  I  desire  nothing,  nor  do  I  expect  anything. 
You  cannot  repulse  me,  because  I  repulse  myself.  I 
only  tell  you  as  I  might  tell  a  friend,  a  sister.  I  come 
and  complain  to  you,  because  I  have  nowhere  else  to  go, 
that  I  love  a  woman  that  belongs  to  somebody  else, 
—  love  her  to  distraction,  —  oh,  Aniela  !  —  and  without 
limit ! " 

We  were  near  the  gate,  but  still  in  the  deep  shadow  of 
the  trees.  For  a  moment  I  had  the  delusion  that  she 
was  leaning  towards  me  like  a  broken  flower,  that  I  might 
snatch  her  into  my  arms  ;  but  I  was  mistaken. 

Aniela,  recovering  from  the  sudden  shock,  began  sud- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  217 

denly  to  say,  with  a  kind  of  nervous  energy  I  had  not 
suspected  in  her,  — 

"  I  will  not  listen  to  this,  Leon.  I  will  not ;  I  will 
not ;  I  will  not !  " 

And  she  ran  into  the  moonlit  courtyard.  Yes ;  she 
ran  away  from  my  words,  —  my  confession.  Presently 
she  disappeared  within  the  portico,  and  I  remained  alone 
with  a  feeling  of  unrest,  fear,  and  great  pity  for  her,  and 
triumph  at  the  same  time  that  the  words  which  should 
be  the  beginning  of  a  new  life  for  us  both  had  been 
spoken.  For,  to  say  the  truth,  I  could  not  expect  any- 
thing else  from  her  at  first ;  but  the  seed  from  which 
something  must  spring  up  was  sown. 

When  I  came  into  the  house  there  was  no  Aniela  visi- 
ble. I  found  only  my  aunt,  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  muttering  her  rosary  and  soliloquizing  between 
the  prayers.  I  said  good-night,  and  went  at  once  to  my 
room  thinking  that  it  would  calm  me  if  I  put  down  the 
day's  impressions  ;  but  it  only  tired  me  more.  I  intend 
to  go  away  to-morrow,  or  rather  to-day,  for  I  see  the 
daylight  coming  through  the  window.  I  want  to  confirm 
Aniela  in  the  conviction  that  I  expect  nothing  from  her, 
—  want  her  to  calm  down  and  get  familiar  with  what  I 
told  her.  But  to  confess  the  whole  truth,  I  go  away 
also  because  I  am  afraid  to  meet  her  so  soon,  and  would 
fain  put  it  off.  There  are  moments  when  it  seems  to 
me  a  monstrous  deed  to  have  introduced  an  element  of 
corruption  in  this  pure  atmosphere.  But  does  not  the 
principal  evil  lie  in  her  marrying  a  man  she  cannot  love  ? 
What  is  more  immoral,  my  love  which  is  a  manifesta- 
tion of  nature's  great  law,  or  the  belonging  of  Aniela  to 
that  man,  which  is  a  shameful  breaking  of  the  same  law  ? 
And  I,  who  understand  this  so  clearly,  am  yet  so  weak 
that  a  horror  seizes  me  when  I  kick  against  that  corrupt 
morality.  But  all  these  scruples  melt  like  snow  at  the 
words,  "  I  love."  If  even  now  my  heart  feels  sore  at  the 
thought  that  at  this  very  moment  she  may  be  awake, 
weeping  perhaps,  or  torn  by  doubts,  it  is  only  another 


218  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

proof  how  I  love  her.     It  hurts  me,  and  at  the  same  time 
I  do  not  see  how  otherwise  we  cau  arrive  at  happiness. 


19  May. 
The  first  night  after  my  arrival  I  slept  profoundly. 
At  Ploszow  I  grudged  every  moment  that  kept  me  from 
Aniela,  and  during  the  night  I  was  writing ;  consequently 
1  felt  deadly  tired.  And  now  I  feel  still  heavy,  but  am 
able  to  think.  I  am  somewhat  ashamed  that  I  ran  away 
and  left  Aniela  alone  to  bear  the  burden  of  my  confes- 
sion ;  but  when  the  beloved  woman  is  in  question,  a 
little  cowardice  is  not  dishonorable.  Besides,  I  should 
not  have  fled  had  it  not  been  necessary  for  the  future 
weal  of  my  love.  Now,  every  day  when  she  rises  and 
says  her  prayers,  walks  in  the  park  or  attends  her  sick 
mother,  she  must,  if  ever  so  unwillingly,  say  to  herself, 
"  He  loves  me,"  and  the  thought  will  gradually  become 
familiar,  less  terrifying  to  her.  Human  nature  gets  ac- 
customed to  everything,  and  a  woman  soon  becomes  rec- 
onciled to  the  thought  that  she  is  loved,  especially  when 
she  returns  that  love.  This  question,  "  Does  she  love 
me  ?  "  I  put  to  myself  the  fii'st  time  when  I  knew  I 
loved  her  still ;  and  again  I  turn  it  over  in  my  mind,  try 
to  weigh  all  the  circumstances  as  if  somebody  else's  fate 
were  at  stake,  and  I  arrive  at  the  conviction  that  it  can- 
not be  otherwise.  "When  she  married  she  loved  me,  not 
Kromitzki ;  she  only  yielded  to  him  her  hand  driven  by 
despair.  If  she  had  married  a  superior  man  who  dazzled 
her  by  his  fame,  his  thoughts,  or  exceptional  character, 
she  might  have  forgotten  me.  But  how  could  a  Kro- 
mitzki, with  his  money-grubbing  neurosis,  get  hold  of 
her  affection  ?  Besides,  he  left  her  soon  after  they  were 
married ;  he  sold  Gluchow,  which  was  as  the  very  apple 
of  the  eye  to  these  two  women.  Judging  Kromitzki  quite 
impartially,  there  was  nothing  in  him  which  could  win 
a  being  full  of  ideal  impulses  and  feelings.  Then  I  came 
back;  —  I,  whom  she  had  loved.     I  touched  the  chords  of 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  219 

her  heart  with  memories  of  the  past,  by  every  word  and 
glance.  I  drew  her  towards  me,  not  only  with  that  skill 
an  experience  of  life  gives,  but  also  with  that  magnetic 
force  true  love  bestows  on  man.  Adding  to  this  the  fact 
that  she  knew  how  much  I  suffered  when  I  sent  Snia- 
tynski  to  her,  she  must  have  pitied  me,  and  that  pity 
cannot  have  vanished  altogether.  I  play  for  my  life, 
but  the  cards  are  in  my  favor.     I  cannot  lose  the  game. 

I  am  as  much  in  my  right  as  anybody  who  is  defend- 
ing his  life.  I  do  not  say  this  upon  the  impulse  of  the 
moment,  but  after  calm  reasoning.  I  have  no  convic- 
tions, no  beliefs,  no  principles,  no  stable  ground  under 
my  feet,  for  the  ground  has  been  undermined  by  criti- 
cism and  reflection.  I  have  only  those  forces  of  life 
born  with  uSj  and  they  are  all  concentrated  on  one  wo- 
man. Therefore  I  clutch  my  love  as  a  drowning  man 
clutches  a  plank ;  if  this  gives  way  there  will  be  nothing 
left  to  live  for.  If  common-sense  asks,  "  Why  did  you  not 
marry  Aniela  ?  "  I  say  what  I  have  said  before :  I  did  not 
marry  her  simply  for  the  reason  that  I  am  not  straight, 
but  crooked,  —  partly  because  born  so,  partly  because  so 
reared  by  those  two  nurses.  Reflection  and  Criticism. 
Why  this  woman  and  no  other  should  be  my  plank  of 
salvation,  I  do  not  know.  Most  likely  because  it  was 
she  and  not  another.     It  did  not  depend  upon  me. 

If  she  were  free  to-day,  I  would  stretch  my  hands  out 
for  her  without  hesitation  ;  if  she  had  never  been  mar- 
ried, who  knows  ?  —  I  am  ashamed  of  the  thought,  and 
yet  it  may  be  that  she  would  not  be  so  desirable.  Most 
likely,  judging  by  the  past,  I  should  have  gone  on  watch- 
ing her,  watching  my  own  feelings^  until  somebody  else 
carried  her  off ;  but  I  prefer  not  to  think  of  it,  because 
it  makes  me  inclined  to  swear. 


20  May. 

I  considered  to-day  what  would  happen  if  I  gained 
Aniela's  love,  or  rather  brought  her  to  confess  it.     I  see 


220  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

happiness  before  me  but  no  way  of  reaching  it.  I  know 
that  if  in  presence  of  these  women  I  uttered  the  word 
"  divorce,"  they  would  think  the  roof  was  crashing  down 
over  our  heads.  There  cannot  be  even  a  question  as  to 
that,  because  my  aunt's  and  Pani  Celina's  ideas  upon 
that  point  are  such  tliat  neither  of  them  would  survive 
the  shock.  I  have  no  illusions  as  to  Aniela ;  her  ideas 
are  the  same.  And  yet  the  moment  she  owns  her  love,  I 
will  say  the  word,  and  she  must  accustom  herself  to  it ; 
but  we  shall  have  to  wait  until  my  aunt's  and  Pani  Ce- 
lina's death.  There  is  nothing  else  for  it.  Kromitzki  will 
either  agree  willingly  or  he  will  not.  In  the  latter  case  I 
shall  carry  Aniela  oil,  if  I  have  to  go  as  far  as  the  Indies, 
and  the  divorce,  or  rather  invalidation  of  the  marriage, 
I  shall  conduct  myself,  in  spite  of  his  wishes.  Fortu- 
nately, there  is  no  want  of  means.  As  regards  myself,  I 
am  ready  for  everything,  and  the  inward  conviction  that 
I  am  right  justifies  me  in  my  own  eyes.  This  time  it  is 
not  a  mere  love  intrigue,  but  a  feeling  that  absorbs  my 
whole  being.  Its  sincerity  and  strength  make  all  my 
stratagems  lawful.  I  know  that  I  deceive  her  in  say- 
ing that  all  I  wish  to  gain  is  a  sister's  love.  I  deceive 
her  when  I  say  I  do  not  desire  anything ;  all  this  would 
be  wrong  and  a  lie  if  my  love  were  in  itself  a  lie.  In 
presence  of  a  great  truth,  they  are  mere  diplomatic  strata- 
gems of  love.  It  all  belongs  to  the  course  of  love.  It  is 
a  known  fact  that  even  affianced  lovers  have  recourse  to 
stratagems,  in  order  to  make  each  other  confess  their 
love.  As  to  myself,  I  am  sincere  even  when  I  say  what 
is  not  true. 


21  May. 

I  told  Aniela  that  I  intended  to  work,  and  I  will  do  so, 

if  only  for  the  reason  that  I  said  so  to  her.  I  will  have 
the  collections  brought  over  from  Rome,  and  found  a  mu- 
seum.    This  will  be  Aniela's  merit,  and  the  first  useful 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  221 

deed  that  springs  from  our  love.  I  suppose  the  Italian 
government  will  raise  difficulties,  as  there  is  a  law  that 
prohibits  the  exportation  of  antiquities  and  precious 
works  of  art.  But  my  lawyer  will  arrange  that  for  me. 
And  that  reminds  me  of  the  Madonna  by  Sassoferrato, 
which  my  father  bequeathed  to  his  future  daughter- 
in-law.  I  will  have  it  sent  over  at  once,  because  I 
want  it. 


22  May. 

Human  nature  is  ever  malicious.  I  have  a  grim  satis- 
faction in  thinking  how  ridiculous  a  man  like  Kromitzki 
must  seem,  who  is  turning  summersaults  in  the  East  in 
his  effort  to  make  money,  while  somebody  whispers  love 
vows  into  his  wife's  ears  ;  and  sooner  or  later  Aniela 
must  see  it  in  this  light.  The  whole  Kromitzki  can  be 
summed  up  in  the  one  fact :  he  sold  Gluchow  and  left 
the  women  without  a  home.  He  thought  perhaps  they 
would  live  in  Odessa  or  Kiel! ;  in  the  mean  while  Pani 
Celina's  illness  brought  Aniela  to  Ploszow. 

Yet  he  knew  how  precarious  the  lady's  health  was ;  he 
ought  to  have  foreseen  that  she  might  fall  ill,  and  that 
Aniela  would  remain  alone  with  the  burden  of  sorrow 
and  trouble.  If  his  business  requires  his  presence  in  the 
East,  why  did  he  marry  at  all  ? 

To-morrow  I  go  back  to  Ploszow.  I  feel  very  lonely 
here,  and  besides  I  feel  the  longing  to  look  once  more  in- 
to Aniela's  eyes,  and  at  times  feel  guilty,  as  if  I  had 
been  shirking  a  duty  by  running  away.  It  was  neces- 
sary at  the  time,  but  I  must  go  back  now.  Who  knows  ? 
greater  happiness  than  I  suppose  may  be  waiting  for  me, 
—  perhaps  she  too  is  longing  for  me. 

I  called  upon  the  Sniatynskis,  and  Clara,  whom  I  did 
not  find  at  home.  I  paid  also  a  vi?it  to  the  celebrated 
beauty,  Pani  Korytzka.  The  latter  carries  her  historical 
name  like  a  jockey  cap,  and  her  wit  as  a  riding-whip ;  slie 


2^2  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

hits  people  with  it  between  the  eyes.  I  came  off  un- 
scathed ;  she  even  tried  a  little  coquetry  on  me.  I  made 
a  dozen  or  so  calls  and  left  cards.  I  wish  people  to 
think  that  I  am  settled  at  Warsaw. 

As  the  bringing  over  of  my  father's  collections  is  only 
a  matter  of  will  and  ready  money,  I  am  seeking  what 
else  there  is  for  me  to  do.  Men  of  my  position  are  usu- 
ally occupied  with  the  administration  of  their  fortune ; 
and  very  badly  they  administer  it  on  the  whole,  far  worse 
than  I.  Very  few  take  any  part  in  public  life.  I  men- 
tioned before  that  here  they  still  amuse  themselves  with 
aristocracy  and  democracy ;  there  are  even  some  whose 
whole-  aim  in  life  consists  in  backing  up  social  hierarchy, 
and  stemming  the  tide  of  democratic  currents.  It  is  a 
sport  as  good  as  any  other,  but  since  I  am  no  sportsman, 
I  take  no  interest  in  that  amusement.  Even  if  it  were  no 
mere  play,  if  there  were  some  sense  at  the  bottom  of  it,  I 
am  too  much  of  a  sceptic  in  regard  to  both  parties  to  be- 
long to  either.  Democracy,  by  which  I  mean  patented 
democrats,  not  people  of  humble  extraction,  acts  upon 
my  nerves.  As  to  aristocracy,  methinks  that  if  their 
raison  d'etre  is  based  upon  services  rendered  to  the  coun- 
try by  their  ancestors,  those  services  have  often  been 
such  that  the  sooner  their  descendants  don  the  hair-shirt 
and  cover  their  heads  with  ashes  the  better.  Besides, 
these  two  parties,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  foolish  in- 
dividuals, do  not  really  believe  in  themselves.  Some 
feign  sincerity  in  order  to  serve  their  own  ends,  and  as 
I  never  feign  anything,  it  is  clear  that  to  take  part  in 
such  struggles  is  not  the  work  for  me.  Then  there  are 
those  of  the  Sniatynski  order  who  stand  above  both  par- 
ties, but  are  always  ready  to  drown  both  in  their  syn- 
thesis. They  are,  as  a  rule,  strong  men ;  but  even  if  I 
could  agree  with  them  I  should  have  to  do  something,  — 
mere  consciousness  of  duty  is  not  work.  Sniatynski 
writes  plays.  Truly,  when  I  look  things  straight  in 
the  face,  I  find  that  I  am  outside  the  parenthesis,  and  do 
not  see  my  way  to  get  inside.     It  is  strange  that  a  man 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  S23 

who  has  considerable  means,  culture,  certain  capacities, 
and  a  wish  for  something  to  do,  should  find  nothing  he 
can  put  his  hands  to.  Again  I  feel  inclined  to  swear, 
as  it  is  all  owing  to  that  intellectual  splitting  of  hairs. 
They  ought  to  make  a  diagnosis  upon  me,  as  to  the  dis- 
ease of  Time's  old  age,  which  in  me  has  reached  the 
acute  stage.  He  who  is  a  sceptic  in  regard  to  faith,  in 
regard  to  science,  conservatism,  progress,  and  so  on,  has 
indeed  difficulty  in  finding  anything  to  do. 

In  addition  to  all  that,  my  aspirations  are  far  greater 
than  the  possibility  of  satisfying  them.  Life  rests  upon 
work ;  and  therefore,  here  people  work  at  something  or 
other.  But  it  is  the  work  of  a  dray-horse,  carting  grain 
to  the  granary.  I  could  not  do  it  even  if  I  wished.  I 
am  a  high-stepper,  fit  only  for  a  carriage,  and  of  no 
use  on  sandy,  rutty  roads,  where  common  horses  do  the 
work  better  and  more  steadily.  At  the  building  of  a 
house  I  could  not  carry  the  bricks,  but  might  do  some- 
thing in  the  ornamental  line,  but  where  it  is  a  question  of 
four  simple  walls  and  a  sound  roof,  artisans  such  as  I 
are  not  wanted.  If  at  least  I  had  a  mighty  impulse 
towards  work,  I  still  might  be  able  to  force  myself  to  do 
something.  But  in  the  main,  it  is  only  a  question  of  ap- 
pearances. I  wish  to  work  in  order  to  please  the  wo- 
man I  love.  Aniela  in  regard  to  that  has  exalted  notions, 
and  it  would  certainly  please  her.  Moreover,  for  that 
very  reason  my  vanity  and  also  my  calculations  urge  me 
to  bid  for  a  prominent  position,  which  would  raise  my 
value  in  her  eyes.  I  will  see  what  can  be  done,  and  in 
the  meanwhile  my  purse  will  do  the  work  for  me.  I 
shall  have  the  collection  sent  over,  support  various  in- 
stitutions,  and  give  money  where  it  is  wanted. 

What  a  strange  power  there  is  in  woman !  She  comes  in 
contact  with  a  genius  without  portfolio,  an  exceptionally 
useless  implement  like  me,  and  then,  without  any  preach- 
ing on  her  part,  he  feels  himself  in  duty  bound  to  do  all 
sorts  of  things  he  never  dreamed  of  doing  before. 

The  deuce  take  me  if  I  ever  thought  of  bringing  my 


224  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

collections  to  Paris  or  Vienna  for  the  sake  of  a  Parisian 
or  Viennese.  I  am  going  back  to  Ploszow  ;  I  long  to  be 
near  my  good  spirit. 


23  May. 

When  I  went  away  from  Ploszow  for  some  time,  it  was 
to  bring  Aniela  to  some  kind  of  decision.  At  Warsaw 
and  on  the  way  back  to  Ploszow,  I  tried  to  guess  what 
she  had  resolved  upon.  I  knew  she  could  not  write  to 
her  husband  :  "  Come  and  take  me  away,  for  Ploszowski 
is  making  love  to  me ; "  she  would  not  have  done  so  even 
if  she  hated  me.  There  is  too  much  delicacy  of  feeling 
in  her  to  do  that.  Putting  aside  that  an  encounter  be- 
tween me  and  Kromitzki  might  be  the  consequence  of 
such  a  step,  Aniela  would  have  to  leave  her  sick  mother, 
who  cannot  go  away  from  Ploszow. 

Ajiiela's  position  is  indeed  a  difficult  one,  and  I  counted 
upon  that  before  1  made  my  confession.  The  thought 
crossed  my  mind  that  she  might  take  it  into  her  head  to 
avoid  me  altogether,  and  shut  herself  up  in  her  mother's 
rooms.  But  I  dismissed  the  thought.  In  the  country  and 
under  the  same  roof  it  would  be  quite  impracticable,  or  at 
any  rate  so  conspicuous  as  to  rouse  the  elder  ladies'  atten- 
tion and  consequently  act  injuriously  upon  her  mother's 
health.  In  truth  I  take  the  utmost  advantage  of  her 
position,  but  who  that  is  in  love  does  not  do  the  same  ? 
I  foresaw  that  Aniela,  even  if  she  returns  my  love,  will 
not  allow  me  in  the  future  to  repeat  my  avowal,  —  she 
will  resist  more  than  any  other  married  woman  ;  for  what 
with  her  principles  and  her  modesty,  the  slightest  sign 
of  yielding  would  appear  to  her  an  incredible  crime. 
But  how  can  she  prevent  me  from  telling  her  my  love  ? 
There  is  only  one  way,  —  by  getting  from  me  a  voluntary 
promise ;  I  guessed  she  would  speak  to  me  about  it,  and 
I  was  right. 

When  I  arrived  at  Ploszow  she  seemed  pale,  and  a 
little  worn,  but  looked  at  me  with  a  resolute  face.    It  was 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  225 

evident  the  dear  child  had  laid  by  a  whole  store  of  argu- 
ments to  convince  me  with,  and  believed  that  after 
displaying  them  there  would  be  nothing  for  me  but  to 
remain  silent  forever.  Angelic  delusion  ;  to  think  there 
is  only  one  truth  in  the  world.  No  !  do  not  enter  into 
any  arguments  with  me,  my  Aniela,  for  if  I  believe  in 
any  truth,  it  is  the  truth  and  right  of  love  ;  besides,  I  am 
too  wily,  and  each  argument  will  be  turned  inside  out  like 
a  glove  and  made  into  a  weapon  against  yourself.  Nei- 
ther argument  nor  reasoning,  not  even  my  pity  will  save 
you;  for  the  whiter,  the  more  perfect  and  angelic  you 
prove  yourself,  the  more  I  shall  love  you,  and  the  more 
I  love,  the  more  desirable  you  will  be  to  me.  I  have  noth- 
ing but  crocodile  tears  for  you,  which  Avill  only  sharpen 
my  rapacity.  Such  is  the  mazy  circle  of  love.  At  the 
sight  of  Aniela  I  felt  myself  drawn  into  that  circle.  In 
the  afternoon,  that  same  day,  when  Pani  Celina  had 
fallen  asleep  on  the  veranda,  Aniela  motioned  me  to 
follow  her  into  the  park.  From  the  earnest  expression 
of  her  face,  I  guessed  that  the  time  had  come  for  those 
arguments,  and  I  followed  her  eagerly.  As  we  went  far- 
ther from  the  veranda,  I  noticed  that  Aniela's  anima- 
tion began  to  flag;  she  had  grown  paler  and  seemed 
frightened  at  her  own  temerity  ;  but  she  could  not  draw 
back  now,  and  began  in  an  unsteady  voice  :  — 

"  If  you  only  knew  how  unhappy  I  have  been  these 
last  days  —  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  have  been  much  happier  ?  "  I  replied. 

"  I  know  you  have  not,  and  because  of  that  I  have  a 
request  to  make.  You  understand  everything,  and  are 
so  good  and  generous  you  will  not  refuse  what  I  ask 
you." 

"  Tell  me,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Leon,  you  must  leave  here,  go  abroad  again,  and  do 
not  come  back  until  mamma  and  I  are  able  to  leave 
Ploszow." 

I  was  sure  she  would  ask  me  that.  I  remained  silent 
for  a  while  as  if  searching  for  an  answer. 

la 


226  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

"  You  can  do  with  me  what  you  like,"  I  said ;  "  but  tell 
me,  why  do  you  send  me  into  exile  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  send  you  into  exile ;  but  you  know  why  —  " 

"  I  know,"  I  replied,  with  unfeigned  sadness  and  res- 
ignation ;  "  it  is  because  I  am  ready  to  give  the  last  drop 
of  my  blood  for  you,  because  I  would  shield  you  with  my 
body  from  any  danger,  because  I  love  you  more  than  my 
life,  —  these  are  heavy  sins  indeed  !  " 

"  No,"  she  interrupted,  with  feverish  energy,  "  but  be- 
cause I  am  the  wife  of  a  man  I  love  and  respect,  —  and 
I  will  not  listen  to  such  words." 

Impatience  and  anger  seized  me ;  I  knew  she  did  not 
speak  the  truth.  All  married  women  shield  themselves 
with  love  and  respect  for  the  husband  when  they  arrive 
at  a  turning-point  of  their  life,  though  there  may  not  be 
a  shadow  of  that  feeling  in  their  hearts ;  nevertheless, 
Aniela's  words  sent  a  shock  through  my  nerves,  and  I 
could  scarcely  repress  the  exclamation :  "  You  say  what 
is  not  true  !  you  are  perjuring  yourself,  for  you  neither 
love  nor  respect  the  man  ; "  but  the  thought  that  her 
energy  would  not  hold  out  long  made  me  refrain,  and  I 
replied,  almost  humbly :  — 

"  Do  not  be  angry  with  me,  Aniela ;  I  will  go." 

I  saw  that  my  humility  disarmed  her,  and  that  she 
felt  sorry  for  me.  Suddenly  she  pulled  a  leaf  from  a 
low-hanging  branch,  and  began  to  tear  it  nervously  to 
pieces.  She  made  superhuman  efforts  not  to  burst  into 
tears,  but  I  saw  her  breast  heaving  with  agitation. 

I,  too,  was  moved  to  the  very  depth  of  my  soul,  and 
continued  with  difficulty  :  — 

"  Do  not  wonder  that  I  hesitate  to  comply  with  your 
wish,  for  it  is  very  heavy  upon  me.  I  have  told  you 
that  I  do  not  wish  for  anything  but  to  breathe  the  same 
air  with  you,  to  look  at  you,  and  God  knows  it  is  not  too 
much  I  ask  for  ;  yet  such  as  it  is,  it  is  my  all.  And  you 
take  it  away  from  me.  Think  only ;  everybody  else  is 
allowed  to  come  here,  to  speak  to  you,  look  at  you  —  but 
me.    Why  am  I  shut  out  ?    Because  you  are  dearer  to  me 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  227 

than  to  anybody  else  !  What  a  refined  cruelty  of  fate  ! 
Only  put  yourself  in  my  place.  It  is  difficult  for  you, 
who  have  never  known  what  loneliness  means  ;  you  love 
your  husband,  or  think  you  do,  which  comes  to  the  same ; 
put  yourself  for  a  moment  into  my  position,  and  you  will 
understand  that  such  a  sentence  is  worse  than  death. 
You  ought  to  feel  at  least  a  little  pity.  Driving  me 
from  here,  you  take  everything  from  me,  I  told  you  I 
had  come  home  to  do  some  useful  work,  in  which  I  might 
find  peace,  forgetfulness,  and  redeem  my  former  sins ; 
only  recently  I  resolved  to  bring  over  my  father's  collec- 
tions ;  and  you  want  me  to  renounce  all  that,  bid  me  go 
away  and  begin  again  a  wandering,  aimless,  life.  But 
have  your  wish ;  I  will  go  if  you  tell  me  the  same 
three  days  hence,  for  I  fancy  you  did  not  quite  under- 
stand what  all  this  meant  for  me.  Now  you  know,  I 
only  ask  for  three  days'  respite,  nothing  more." 

Aniela  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands  and  moaned : 
"  Oh,  my  God !  my  God  !  " 

There  was  something  inexpressibly  touching  in  the 
low  cry,  like  the  wail  of  a  child  at  its  own  powerless- 
ness.  There  was  a  moment  I  felt  tempted  to  promise 
everything  she  asked.  But  in  that  wail  I  saw  the  prom- 
ise of  a  future  victory,  and  I  would  not  lose  its  fruits. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  I  said,  "  I  will  go  at  once,  this  very 
moment,  and  put  seas  between  us,  if  you  tell  me  that  it 
is  necessary  for  your  own  peace  of  mind.  I  speak  to 
you  now  as  a  friend,  a  brother !  I  know  from  my  aunt 
that  you  loved  me ;  if  that  love  be  still  alive  I  will  go  at 
your  bidding." 

Sincere  pain  on  my  part  dictated  these  words  ;  but 
it  was  a  terrible  trap  for  Aniela,  which  might  wring  a 
confession  from  her.  If  that  had  happened  —  I  do  not 
know  —  maybe  I  should  have  kept  my  word,  but  as  the 
heavens  are  above  us,  I  would  have  taken  her  into  my 
arms.  But  she  only  shuddered  as  if  I  had  touched  an 
open  wound ;  then  her  face  flamed  up  in  anger  and  indig- 
nation.    "  No ! "  she  exclaimed  with  desperate  passion, 


228  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

"it  is  not  true !  not  true !  You  may  do  as  you  like,  go 
away  or  stay,  but  it  is  not  true  ! "  The  very  passion  with 
which  these  words  were  uttered  showed  me  that  it  might 
be  true.  I  felt  inclined  to  tell  her  so  with  frank  brutal- 
ity, but  I  saw  my  aunt  coming  towards  us.  Aniela  was 
not  able  to  conceal  her  emotion,  and  my  aunt  looking  at 
her  asked  at  once :  — 

"  What  is  troubling  you,  child  ?  what  have  you  two 
been  talking  about  ?  " 

"  Aniela  was  telling  me  how  grieved  her  mother  was 
about  the  sale  of  Gluchow  —  and  I  do  not  wonder  she 
took  it  so  much  to  heart." 

Whether  Aniela's  strength  was  exhausted,  or  the  un- 
truth I  made  her  take  a  silent  part  in  filled  the  cup  of 
bitterness  to  overflowing,  she  burst  into  incontrollable 
sobs  that  shook  her  like  a  reed ;  my  aunt  folded  her  into 
her  arms  and  hushed  her  as  if  she  were  a  little  child. 

"Aniela,  my  darling,  there  is  no  help  for  it;  let  us 
submit  to  God's  will.  The  hail  has  ruined  five  of  my 
farms,  and  I  did  not  even  say  a  word  about  it  to  Chwas- 
towski." 

The  mention  of  the  five  farms  appeared  to  me  so  in- 
appropriate, selfish,  and  futile  in  presence  of  Aniela's 
tears  that  it  made  me  quite  angry  with  my  aunt. 

"Never  mind  the  farms,"  I  said  brusquely,  "she  is 
grieved  about  her  mother ;  "  and  I  went  away  in  sorrow, 
for  I  felt  I  was  torturing  the  woman  I  loved  beyond  any- 
thing. I  had  conquered  along  the  whole  line,  yet  I  felt 
profoundly  sad,  as  if  the  future  were  full  of  unknown 
terrors. 


25  May. 
To-day  is  the  third  day  since  our  conversation,  and  as 
Aniela  has  not  referred  to  it  again,  I  remain.  She  does 
not  say  much  to  me,  nor  does  she  avoid  me  altogether, 
fearing  to  attract  notice.  I  try  to  be  good,  friendly,  and 
attentive,  but  do  not  thrust  myself  in  her  way.    I  want  her 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  229 

to  think  I  keep  my  feeling  under  control,  but  slie  cannot 
help  seeing  it  is  there,  and  increasing  every  moment.  At 
any  rate  we  have  a  little  world  to  ourselves,  where  only 
we  two  dwell ;  we  have  our  mutual  secret  from  the  others. 
When  we  speak  about  indifferent  topics  we  both  know 
that  at  the  bottom  of  our  hearts  there  is  something  we 
both  think  about  but  do  not  put  into  words.  This  forms 
a  tie  ;  time  and  patience  will  do  the  rest.  From  my  love 
I  weave  a  thousand  threads  around  her,  which  will  bind 
us  more  and  more.  This  would  be  all  in  vain  if  she 
loved  her  husband;  it  would  make  her  hate  me.  But 
the  past  speaks  in  my  favor,  and  the  present  does  not 
not  belong  to  Kromitzki.  I  still  think  it  over  with  the 
greatest  impartiality,  and  I  come  to  the  same  conclusion, 
that  she  cannot  love  him.  Aniela's  resistance  is  the  in- 
ward struggle  of  an  exceptionally  pure  soul,  that  does 
not  allow  a  breath  of  faithlessness  to  come  near  it.  But 
she  is  without  help  in  that  struggle.  I  know  the  resist- 
ance will  be  long,  and  difficult  to  overcome ;  I  must  al- 
ways be  on  the  watch,  give  a  clear  account  to  myself  of 
every  trifle,  and  weave  around  her  strong  and  invisible 
threads.  Even  if  I  should  commit  any  mistakes  they 
will  be  only  the  result  of  my  love,  and  as  such  will  be 
rather  a  help  than  a  hindrance. 


26  May. 

I  told  Sniatynski  about  my  intention  to  have  my 
Roman  collections  conveyed  to  Warsaw,  —  calculating 
that  it  would  reach  the  press,  which  could  not  fail  to 
laud  me  up  to  the  sky  as  a  public  benefactor.  Aniela 
involuntarily  must  compare  me  to  Kromitzki,  which  will 
count  in  my  favor.  I  sent  also  a  telegram  to  Rome, 
asking  for  the  Sassoferrato. 

During  breakfast  I  told  Aniela,  in  presence  of  the 
others,  that  my  father  had  left  the  picture  to  her  in  his 
will ;  which  confused  her,  and  she  guessed  at  once  that 
he   had   looked  upon  her  as   his    future   daughter.     It 


230  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

is  true  there  was  no  name  mentioned  in  the  -will,  and 
for  that  very  reason  I  want  Aniela  to  have  it.  The 
mention  of  this  bequest  reawoke  in  us  both  a  host  of 
memories.  I  had  done  this  on  purpose  to  turn  Aniela's 
thoughts  to  the  past,  when  she  loved  me  and  could  love 
me  in  peace.  I  know  the  remembrance  must  be  mingled 
with  some  bitter  thoughts,  even  some  resentment ;  it  can- 
not be  otherwise;  but  it  would  be  worse  without  the 
message  I  sent  her  through  Sniatynski.  This  message  is 
the  only  extenuating  circumstance  in  the  whole  guilty 
affair.  Aniela  knows  that  I  wanted  to  undo  the  wrong, 
that  I  loved  her  then,  suffered,  and  repented,  —  am  re- 
penting still,  and  that  if  we  are  unhappy  she  too  helped 
to  bring  that  unhappiness  on  both.  She  is  bound  to  ab- 
solve me  in  her  heart,  regret  the  past  and  dream  what 
the  future  might  have  been  but  for  my  misdeeds  and  her 
severity.  Even  then  I  was  reading  in  her  face  that  she 
felt  frightened  at  her  own  thoughts  and  visions,  and  tried 
to  drive  them  away  by  a  conversation  upon  indifferent 
subjects.  My  aunt  is  so  full  of  the  approaching  races  and 
the  expected  victory  of  Naughty  Boy,  who  is  put  down 
for  the  government  stakes,  that  she  cannot  think  of  any- 
thing else.  Aniela  thereupon  began  to  talk  about  the 
races,  and  made  some  random  remarks  and  asked  a  few 
questions,  until  my  aunt  got  scandalized  and  said :  — 

"  My  dear  child,  I  see  you  have  not  the  slightest  no- 
tion about  races." 

I  said  to  her  with  my  eyes :  "  I  know  you  want  to 
stifle  your  feelings ;  "  and  she  understood  me  as  if  I  had 
said  it  in  so  many  words.  And  indeed,  I  am  quite  cer- 
tain that  she  is  as  much  absorbed  in  our  mutual  relation 
as  I  am.  The  thought  of  love  independent  of  matrimony 
is  already  planted  in  her  soul ;  it  is  there,  and  does  not 
leave  her  for  a  moment.  She  must  live  with  it,  and  get 
reconciled  to  it.  In  such  a  case  a  woman,  even  if  she 
had  loved  her  husband,  would  turn  from  him.  A  drop 
of  water  will  hollow  out  a  stone.  If  Aniela  loves  me 
ever  so  little,  if  she  only  loves  the  past,  she  will  be  mine. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  231 

I  cannot  think  of  it  calmly,  because  the  foretaste  of  hap- 
piness is  almost  choking  me. 

There  are  here  and  there  quicksands  on  the  seashore, 
and  the  unwary  traveller  who  wanders  there  is  lost. 
At  times  it  seems  to  me  that  my  love  is  like  one  of  those 
quicksands,  and  that  I  am  dragging  Aniela  into  it ;  I  my- 
self am  sinking,  sinking  —    Let  it  be  so  —  but  together  ! 


28  May. 

My  aunt  is  spending  six  to  eight  hours  out  of  the 
twenty-four  at  Burzany,  one  of  her  farms,  a  mile  from 
Ploszow,  where  she  passes  her  time  in  contemplation  of 
Naughty  Boy,  and  in  looking  after  Webb,  the  English 
trainer.  I  was  there  above  an  hour  yesterday.  Naughty 
Boy  is  a  fine  animal,  —  let  us  hope  he  will  not  be 
naughty  when  the  great  day  arrives.  But  what  does  it 
matter  to  me  ?  Various  business  is  taking  me  to  town, 
but  I  am  loath  to  leave  Ploszow.  Pani  Celina  has  been 
worse  the  last  few  days,  but  young  Chwast,  as  my  aunt 
calls  him,  says  it  is  merely  a  passing  symptom  ;  he  con- 
siders it  necessary  that  somebody  should  always  be  with 
the  sick  lady,  to  distract  her  from  the  thoughts  which 
dwell  upon  the  loss  of  the  dear  ancestral  home,  and  con- 
sequently weaken  her  nerves.  I  try  to  show  her  almost 
a  sou's  attention,  because  in  this  way  I  earn  Aniela's 
gratitude,  and  she  gets  used  to  consider  me  as  belonging 
to  them.  I  have  now  not  the  slightest  ill-feeling  towards 
the  old  lady,  —  she  is  too  unhappy  herself ;  and  besides, 
I  begin  to  love  everything  and  everybody  that  belongs  to 
Aniela,  —  with  one  exception. 

Yesterday  I  spent  several  hours  with  the  invalid,  to- 
gether with  Aniela  and  Chwast.  We  were  reading  and 
talking.  Pani  Celina  does  not  sleep  at  night,  and  as  the 
doctor  does  not  approve  of  sleeping-draughts,  she  dozes 
off  in  the  daytime  after  any  lengthy  conversation,  and 
strange  to  say,  only  a  sudden  silence  wakes  her  up.  For 
this  reason  we  keep  up  the  conversation  or  the  reading. 


232  WITHOUT  dogma. 

It  was  the  same  to-day.     But  for  the  doctor's  presence  I 
could  speak  to  Aniela  with  the  greatest  freedom. 

Just  at  this  time  the  daily  papers  are  fully  occupied 
with  the  divorce  of  the  beautiful  Pani  Korytzka.  Every- 
body talks  about  it,  and  my  aunt,  who  is  related  to  the 
husband,  is  greatly  shocked.  I  resolved  to  make  the 
most  of  my  opportunity,  and  plant  ideas  in  Aniela's  mind 
that  had  not  been  there  before. 

"  You  are  quite  wrong,  dear  aunt,  to  blame  Pani  Ko- 
rytzka. To  me  it  seems  that  she  acts  as  a  true  and  hon- 
est woman  should.  Where  love  begins,  human  will  ends, 
—  even  you  must  acknowledge  that.  If  Pani  Korytzka 
loves  somebody  else,  nothing  remains  for  her  but  to  leave 
her  husband.  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,  and 
also  what  Aniela  thinks,  —  that  duty  still  remains ;  is 
it  not  so  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  too  must  be  of  the  same  opinion,"  replied 
Aniela. 

"  Most  certainly.  The  question  is  which  way  lies  Pani 
Korytzka's  duty." 

I  do  not  know  why,  but  the  young  doctor  stipulated 
that  he  did  not  recognize  any  free  will,  but  afterwards 
listened  attentively,  evidently  pleased  with  the  boldness 
of  my  views. 

But  seeing  astonishment  on  Aniela's  face,  I  went  on 
quickly :  — 

"  What  can  there  be  more  barbarous  or  unnatural  than 
to  ask  a  woman  to  sacrifice  the  man  she  loves  to  the  man 
she  does  not  love  ?  Eeligious  beliefs  may  be  in  contra- 
diction with  one  another,  but  they  all  agree  upon  the  same 
ethics,  that  marriage  is  based  upon  love.  What  then  is 
matrimony  ?  It  is  either  something  inviolable  and  essen- 
tially holy  when  resting  upon  such  a  basis,  or  if  other- 
wise, only  a  contract  in  contradiction  to  religion  and 
morality,  and  as  such  ought  to  be  dissolved.  Otherwise 
speaking,  a  woman's  duties  spring  from  her  feelings,  and 
not  from  a  number  of  more  or  less  solemn  ceremonies, 
which  in  themselves  are  only  so  many  forms.     I  say  this 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  233 

because  I  am  a  man  who  puts  truth  above  mere  forms.  I 
know  the  word  '  faithlessness  '  sounds  very  terrible.  But 
do  not  delude  yourselves  with  the  notion  that  a  woman 
is  faithless  at  the  moment  she  leaves  her  husband.  She 
is  faithless  the  very  moment  she  feels  that  her  love  for 
him  is  gone.  What  follows  after  is  only  a  question  of 
her  capacity  to  bring  things  to  a  logical  conclusion,  of 
her  courage  and  her  heart  that  knows,  or  does  not  know, 
the  meaning  of  love.  Pani  Korytzka  loved  the  man  for 
whom  she  divorces  her  husband  before  she  was  married ; 
the  marriage  was  contracted  in  a  moment  of  misunder- 
standing, she  mistaking  an  exhibition  of  jealousy  for  in- 
diiference.  This  was  her  only  mistake  ;  which  she  wants 
to  correct  now  that  she  understands  that  it  was  not  right 
to  sacrifice  the  man  she  loved  to  the  man  she  looked  upon 
with  indifference ;  nobody  but  those  who  will  not  see  can 
call  her  bad  or  a  hypocrite." 

There  was  as  much  fiction  as  truth  in  what  I  was  say- 
ing. I  knew  my  aunt  would  never  agree  to  the  theory 
that  the  will  ends  when  love  steps  in ;  but  I  said  it  to 
impress  Aniela  with  the  idea  that  there  was  no  doubt 
about  it.  That  first  lover  was  also  an  invention  of  my 
own,  to  make  the  story  more  to  the  point.  But  I  was 
perfectly  sincere  when  speaking  about  the  rights  and 
duties  springing  from  feeling.  It  is  quite  another  thing 
that  I  might  not  stand  up  for  this  theory  if  it  did  not 
suit  me  just  then  ;  but  man  is  always  subjective,  espe- 
cially the  man  who  has  doubted  all  objective  truths. 

I  stood  up  for  myself,  and  should  have  been  foolish  to 
speak  against  my  own  interest.  I  counted  that  this  kind 
of  reasoning  would  hasten  the  evolution  of  her  soul,  en- 
courage her,  and  finally  justify  her  in  her  own  eyes. 
Considering  her  great  sensitiveness,  I  thought  some  of 
it  would  take  root.  She  understood  me  perfectly,  and  I 
could  see  that  every  word  thrilled  her  nerves  ;  her  color 
came  and  went ;  she  put  her  hands  to  her  burning  face 
to  cool  it.  At  last,  when  I  had  ceased  speaking,  she 
replied :  — 


234  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

"Everything  may  be  proved  in  some  way  or  other; 
but  when  we  do  wrong  our  conscience  tells  us,  '  It  is 
wrong,  wrong ! '  and  nothing  can  convince  it  to  the 
contrary." 

Young  Chwastowski  must  have  thought  Aniela  want- 
ing in  philosophical  development,  and  as  to  myself  I  had 
a  sensation  like  that,  for  instance,  when  a  weapon  comes 
into  contact  with  a  stone  wall.  Aniela's  reply,  in  its  sim- 
plicity and  dogmatism,  brought  to  naught  all  my  argu- 
ments. For  if  the  principle  that  the  will  ends  where 
love  steps  in  might  be  open  to  doubt,  there  is  no  doubt 
whatever  that  where  dogma  begins  reasoning  ceases. 
Women  generally,  and  Polish  women  especially,  agree 
with  logic  as  long  as  it  does  not  bring  them  into  danger. 
At  the  approach  of  danger  they  shelter  themselves  be- 
hind the  fortifications  of  simple  faith  and  catechismal 
truth,  which  strong  feeling  might  force  to  surrender, 
but  reasoning,  never.  It  is  their  weakness,  and  at  the 
same  time  their  strength.  In  consequence  of  this  their 
power  of  reasoning  is  weaker  than  man's,  but  their  saintli- 
ness  in  certain  conditions  becomes  unassailable.  The 
devil  can  lead  a  woman  astray  only  when  he  inspires 
her  with  love ;  by  way  of  reasoning  he  can  do  nothing, 
even  if  for  once  he  has  the  right  on  his  side. 

In  presence  of  these  reflections  I  feel  disheartened.  I 
am  thinking  that  any  structure,  however  cleverly  and  art- 
fully raised  by  me,  will  be  pulled  down  by  the  simple 
words  :  "  It  is  wrong ;  conscience  does  not  permit  it." 

In  presence  of  that  I  am  powerless.  I  must  be  very 
careful  so  as  not  to  estrange  or  frighten  her  by  the  bold- 
ness of  ideas  I  try  to  acclimatize  in  her  mind.  And  yet 
I  cannot  give  up  all  endeavors  of  this  kind.  Though 
they  do  not  occupy  the  first  place  in  the  plan  of  subduing 
her,  they  may  hasten  the  solution.  They  would  be  of 
no  use  whatever  if  it  were  true  that  she  did  not  love 
me.  If  I  had  made  a  mistake,  —  but  even  then  there 
would  be  some  kind  of  solution. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  235 

29  May. 
To-day  I  found  Aniela  standing  on  a  chair  before  the 
old  Dantzic  clock  which  had  gone  wrong.  At  the  mo- 
ment she  raised  herself  on  tip-toe  to  reach  the  hands, 
the  chair  gave  way.  I  had  only  time  to  cry  out,  ''  Take 
care  !  you  are  falling  ! "  I  caught  her  in  my  arms,  and 
put  her  on  the  floor.  For  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  I  held 
the  dear  girl  in  my  arms,  her  hair  touched  my  face,  her 
breath  fanned  my  cheek.  I  felt  so  dizzy  that  I  had  to 
steady  myself  by  grasping  the  back  of  a  chair,  —  and  she 
saw  it.  She  knows  I  love  her  madly.  I  cannot  write 
any  more. 


30  May. 

My  whole  day  was  poisoned,  for  Aniela  has  received 
another  letter  from  Kromitzki.  I  heard  her  telling  my 
aunt  that  he  does  not  know  himself  when  he  will  be  able 
to  return,  —  may  be  shortly,  or  it  may  be  two  months 
hence.  I  cannot  even  imagine  how  I  shall  be  able  to 
bear  his  presence  near  Aniela.  At  times  it  seems  that 
I  simply  could  not  bear  it.  I  count  upon  some  lucky 
chance  that  will  prevent  his  coming  back.  Chwastowski 
says  Pani  Celina  ought  to  go  to  Gastein  as  soon  as  she 
can  bear  the  journey.  Gastein  is  such  a  distance  from 
Baku  that  it  may  be  too  far  for  Kromitzki  to  go.  I  shall 
go  there  as  sure  as  there  is  a  heaven  above  us.  It  is  a 
happy  thought  of  Chwastowski's ;  the  baths  will  do 
us  all  much  good.  I  too  feel  fagged  and  in  want  of 
bracing  mountain  air,  and  still  more  in  want  of  being 
near  Aniela.  To-morrow  I  shall  go  to  Warsaw,  and  send 
a  telegram  to  the  manager  of  the  bathing  establishment 
to  secure  rooms  for  the  ladies.  If  no  rooms  are  to  be 
had,  I  am  ready  to  buy  a  villa.  When  Pani  Celina  spoke 
of  the  trouble  and  difficulties  it  would  give  Aniela  were 
she  to  go  there,  I  only  said :  "  Leave  it  all  to  me  ; "  and 
then,  in  a  lower  voice,  to  Aniela :  "  I  will  take  care  of 


236  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

her  as  if  she  were  my  own  mother."  I  saw  that  Pani 
Celina,  who  believes  less  and  less  in  Kromitzki's  millions, 
was  afraid  I  might  arrange  things  on  too  expensive  a 
scale  ;  but  I  have  already  settled  it  in  my  mind  to  show 
her  a  fictitious  agreement,  and  take  the  greater  part  of 
the  expenses  upon  myself.  Of  course,  I  never  mentioned 
that  I  intended  going  there  myself.  I  will  arrange  it  so 
that  the  proposal  shall  come  from  my  aunt.  I  am  quite 
sure  that,  as  soon  as  1  unfold  my  plans  of  going  some- 
where in  the  hills  to  recruit  my  health,  the  good  soul 
will  fall  into  the  trap,  and  say  :  "  Why  not  go  with 
them  ?  it  will  be  more  comfortable  for  all  of  you." 
I  know  it  will  frighten  Aniela,  and  in  the  most  secret 
recess  of  her  heart  please  her  a  little.  Maybe  it  will 
remind  her  of  the  poet's  line,  ''  You  are  everywhere  : 
above  me,  around  me,  and  within  me."  Then  truly,  my 
love  will  surround  her  as  with  an  enchanted  circle, 
enter  her  heart  in  the  guise  of  thoughtfulness  towards 
the  mother,  —  in  the  guise  of  little  services  she  cannot 
refuse  without  exciting  her  mother's  suspicions ;  all  this 
will  gradually  sink  into  her  heart,  in  the  guise  of  grati- 
tude and  pity  for  my  sufferings,  will  thrust  itself  upon 
her  with  all  the  force  of  old  memories. 

She  hears  my  praises  sung  by  everybody :  by  my  aunt, 
who  loves  me  blindly  as  she  always  did ;  by  young 
Chwastowski,  who,  to  show  the  impartiality  people  of 
his  opinions  are  capable  of,  maintains  I  am  an  exception 
in  the  "rotten  sphere."  I  have  even  won  over  Pani 
Celina  by  my  attentions  ;  she  likes  me  now,  and  invol- 
untarily, I  dare  say,  regrets '  that  I  am  not  Aniela's 
husband.  All  around  Aniela  there  is  one  great  sug- 
gestion  of  love. 

And  you,  dearest,  are  you  going  to  resist  all  these 
powers  ?  When  will  you  come  and  tell  me  :  "  I  cannot 
hold  out  any  longer ;  take  me,  —  I  love  you "  ? 


Without  dogma.  237 


Warsaw,  31  May. 

Pani  L.,  the  patroness  of  a  charitable  institution, 
asked  Clara  to  give  another  concert  for  the  benefit  of 
the  destitute,  Clara  refused  on  the  plea  that  she  is 
busy  upon  a  great  musical  work  that  engages  all  her  at- 
tention. The  letter,  —  a  very  pattern  of  polite  refusal, 
—  was  accompanied  by  exactly  the  same  sum  of  money 
the  first  concert  had  brought  in.  It  is  easy  to  imagine 
what  a  sensation  this  act  of  generosity  made  in  Warsaw. 
The  papers  were  full  of  it,  raising  the  musician  and  her 
generosity  to  the  sky.  Naturally,  her  private  means, 
which  are  considerable,  gained  in  dimensions.  I  do  not 
know  how  society  came  to  couple  our  names ;  perhaps, 
our  acquaintance,  dating  from  a  long  time,  our  intimacy, 
and  the  exaggerated  news  of  her  wealth  gave  rise  to  the 
rumor.  I  was  at  first  a  little  angry  on  hearing  this ;  but 
upon  maturer  reflection,  resolved  not  to  give  any  direct 
denial,  because  this  puts  my  attentions  towards  Aniela 
beyond  all  suspicion. 

When  I  went  to  Clara's  morning  reception,  Pani  Ko- 
ry tzka  came  up  to  me,  and,  with  that  witty,  aggressive 
air  of  hers,  asked  me  in  presence  of  some  dozen  people 
from  the  musical  world  and  Warsaw  society,  in  an  audi- 
ble voice,  — 

"Tell  me,  cousin,  who  was  that  mythological  person 
that  could  not  resist  the  Siren  ?  " 

"Nobody  resisted,  ma  cousine,  except  Ulysses  ;  and  he 
only  because  he  was  tied  to  the  mast." 

"  And  why  have  you  not  taken  these  precautions  ?  " 

I  saw  some  covert  smiles  lurking  in  the  faces  of  those 
who  witnessed  the  attack,  and  I  retorted,  — 

"  Sometimes  even  that  is  of  no  use.  You  know  that 
love  sunders  the  strongest  ties." 

In  spite  of  all  her  self-possession,  Pani  Korytzka  grew 
confused,  and  I  gained  one  of  those  tiny  victories  which 
are  comprised  in  the  proverb,  "  The  scythe  hit  upon  a 
stone,"  or  in  plain  English,  "The  biter  bit." 


238  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Whether  people  repeat  to  each  other  that  I  am  going 
to  marry  Clara  or  not,  does  not  trouble  me  in  the  least ; 
in  fact,  for  the  above  stated  reason  I  do  not  miud  it  at 
all ;  but  I  did  not  expect  that  this  visit  would  turn  out 
so  unpleasant,  and  Clara  herself  be  the  cause  of  it. 
When  all  the  people  had  left,  and  only  Sniatynski  and  I 
remained,  she  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and  played  her  new 
concerto,  — played  it  so  magnificently  that  we  could  not 
find  words  to  express  our  admiration  ;  repeating  at  our 
request  the  finale,  she  said,  suddenly,  — 

"  This  is  my  farewell,  because  everything  comes  to  a 
finale." 

"  Surely  you  are  not  thinking  of  leaving  us  ?  "  asked 
Sniatynski. 

"  Yes,  in  ten  days  at  the  furthest  I  must  be  at  Frank- 
furt," replied  Clara. 

Thereupon  Sniatynski  turned  to  me,  — 

"  And  what  do  you  say  to  that,  —  you  who  at  Ploszow 
gave  us  to  understand,  made  us  hope,  Miss  Hilst  would 
remain  with  us  always  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I  say  the  same  now  :  her  memory  will  al- 
wa5'^s  remain  with  us." 

"  Yes ;  I  understood  it  so,"  replied  Clara,  with  naive 
resignation. 

Inwardly  I  was  furious,  —  with  myself,  Sniatynski,  and 
Clara.  I  am  neither  so  vain,  foolish,  nor  mean  that  every 
conquest  of  that  kind  should  rejoice  me  ;  therefore  felt 
annoyed  at  the  thought  that  Clara  might  love  me,  and 
nourish  some  baseless  hopes.  I  knew  she  had  some 
kind  of  undefined  feeling,  which,  given  time  and  occasion, 
might  develop  into  something  more  lasting ;  but  I  had 
no  idea  this  vague  feeling  dared  to  wish  or  expect  some- 
thing. It  suddenly  struck  me  that  the  announcement  of 
her  departure  was  prompted  by  a  desire  to  find  out  how 
I  would  receive  the  news.  I  received  it  very  coolly.  A 
love  like  mine  for  Aniela  ought  to  teach  compassion  ;  yet 
Clara's  sadness  and  the  mention  of  her  departure,  not 
only  did  not  move  me,  but  seemed  to  me  an  audacious 
flight  of  fancy  and  an  insult  to  me. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  239 

Why  ?  Not  from  any  aristocratic  notions  ;  that  is  cer- 
tain. I  could  not  account  at  once  for  the  strange  phe- 
nomenon ;  but  now  explain  it  thus,  —  the  feeling  of 
belonging  to  Aniela  is  so  strong  and  exclusive  that  it 
seems  to  me  that  any  other  woman  wanting  but  one 
pulsation  of  my  heart  endeavors  to  steal  something  that 
is  Aniela's  property.  This  explanation  is  sufficient  for  me. 
No  doubt,  by  and  by  I  shall  bid  Clara  good-by,  and  feel  as 
friendly  as  ever  towards  her ;  but  the  sudden  announce- 
ment of  her  departure  gave  me  a  distaste  for  her.  It  is 
only  Aniela  who  may  with  impunity  trample  on  my 
nerves.  Never  did  I  look  at  Clara  so  critically  and  re- 
sentfully ;  for  the  first  time  I  became  fully  aware  of  the 
amplitude  of  her  figure,  the  bright  complexion,  the  dark 
hair,  and  blue,  somewhat  protruding  eyes,  the  lips  like 
ripe  cherries,  —  in  brief,  her  whole  beauty  reminded  me 
of  the  cheap  chromo-lithographs  of  harem  beauties  in 
second-class  hotels.  I  left  her  in  the  worst  of  humors, 
and  went  straight  to  a  book-shop  to  select  some  books 
for  Aniela. 

For  a  week  I  had  been  thinking  what  to  choose  for 
her  reading.  I  did  not  wish  to  neglect  anything,  though 
I  did  not  attach  undue  weight  to  this,  as  it  acts  very 
slowly.  Besides,  I  have  noticed  that  to  our  women, 
though  their  imagination  is  more  developed  than  their 
temperament,  a  book  is  always  something  unreal.  If  it 
falls  even  into  the  hands  of  an  exceptionally  susceptible 
person,  it  creates  in  her  at  the  most  an  abstract  world, 
that  has  no  connection  with  real  life  whatever.  To 
almost  none  of  them  it  occurs  that  ideas  taken  from 
books  can  be  applied  to  any  practical  purpose.  I  am 
convinced  that  if  a  great  writer  tried  to  prove,  for  in- 
stance, that  purity  of  thought  and  mind  were  not  only 
superfluous  in  a  woman,  but  even  blameworthy  from  a 
moral  point  of  view,  —  Aniela  would  opine  that  the 
principle  might  apply  to  the  whole  world  with  the  ex- 
ception of  herself.  The  utmost  I  can  hope  for  is  that 
the  reading  of  appropriate  books  will  render  her  familiar 


240  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

with  a  certain  kind  of  broad  views  and  thoughts.  That 
is  all  I  wish  for.  Loving  her  from  my  whole  soul,  I 
want  her  to  respond  to  that  love,  and  do  not  neglect  any 
means  towards  that  end.  I,  who  never  deceive  myself, 
confess  openly  that  1  want  Aniela  to  sacrifice  for  me  her 
husband,  but  I  do  not  want  to  corrupt  her  or  to  soil  her 
purity.  Let  nobody  tell  me  that  this  is  a  sophism,  antl 
that  the  one  includes  the  other.  The  tormenting  devil 
that  is  always  within  me  raising  difficulties  says :  "  You 
create  new  theories ;  the  way  of  faithlessness  is  the  way 
of  corruption."  How  these  conflicting  thoughts  tear  me 
to  pieces  !  I  reply  to  the  familiar  spirit :  "  I  might  doubt 
opposite  theories  quite  as  much  ;  I  contrive  what  I  can  in 
defence  of  my  love,  —  it  is  my  natural  law."  And  there 
is  a  greater  law  still,  the  law  of  love.  Some  feelings  are 
mean  and  commonplace,  others  lofty  and  full  of  nobility. 
A  woman  that  follows  the  call  of  lofty  feeling  does  not 
lose  the  nobility  of  her  soul.  Such  a  great,  exceptional 
love  I  try  to  awake  in  Aniela,  and  therefore  I  may  say 
conscientiously  that  I  do  not  want  to  corrupt  her. 

Besides,  these  inward  arguments  do  not  lead  to  any- 
thing. Even  if  I  had  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  I  am 
doing  wrong,  if  I  were  unable  to  give  any  conclusive 
answer  to  the  tormenting  spirit,  I  would  not  cease  loving ; 
and  always  following  where  a  greater  power  leads  me,  I 
should  go  according  to  my  feeling,  and  not  according  to 
abstract  reasoning. 

But  the  true  misfortune  of  those  analytic  and  hyper- 
analytic  modern  people  is  that,  though  not  believing  in 
the  result  of  their  analysis,  they  have  the  invincible 
habit  of  inquiring  into  everything  that  goes  on  within 
themselves.  It  is  the  same  with  me.  For  some  time  I 
have  been  questioning  myself  how  it  is  possible  that  a 
man  absorbed  by  a  great  feeling  should  be  able  to  be  so 
watchful,  so  calculating  about  ways  and  means,  and  to 
account  for  everything  as  if  somebody  else  did  it  for 
him.  I  could  reply  to  it  in  this  way  :  The  man  of  the 
period  reserves  above  everything  part  of  himself  to  ob* 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  241 

serve  the  other  part.  Besides,  the  whole  activity  of  a 
mind  full  of  forethought,  of  reflections  apparently  cool, 
stands  eventually  in  proportion  to  the  temperature  of 
the  feeling.  The  hotter  this  grows,  the  more  cool  reason 
is  forced  into  service.  I  repeat,  it  is  a  mistake  to  repre- 
sent love  with  bandaged  eyes.  Love  does  not  suppress 
reason,  as  it  does  not  suppress  the  breathing,  or  the  beat- 
ing of  the  heart,  —  it  only  subjugates  it.  Keason  there- 
upon becomes  the  first  adviser,  the  implement  of  war,  — 
in  other  words,  it  plays  the  part  of  an  Agrippa  to  a 
Caesar  Augustus.  It  is  holding  all  the  forces  in  readi- 
ness, leads  them  into  war,  gains  victories,  and  places 
the  monarch  on  the  triumphal  car ;  it  erects  finally,  — 
not  a  Pantheon,  like  the  historical  Agrippa,  —  but  a 
Monotheon,  where  it  serves  its  only  divinity.  In  the 
microcosm  called  man,  the  part  reason  plays  is  a  still 
greater  one  than  that  of  chief  commander,  —  for  it  re- 
flects into  infinite  parts  the  consciousness  of  everything 
and  of  self,  —  as  a  collection  of  properly  arranged  mir- 
rors reflect  a  given  object  infinitely. 


1  June. 
Yesterday  I  received  news  from  Gastein.  The  rooms 
for  Pani  Celina  and  Aniela  are  ready.  I  sent  them  the 
particulars,  together  with  a  parcel  of  books  by  Balzac 
and  George  Sand.  To-day  is  Sunday,  and  the  first  day 
of  the  races.  My  aunt  has  arrived  from  Ploszow  and 
taken  up  her  abode  with  me.  That  she  went  to  the 
races  is  a  matter  of  course,  she  is  altogether  absorbed  in 
them.  But  our  horses,  Naughty  Boy  and  Aurora,  which 
arrived  here  two  days  ago  with  the  trainer  Webb  and 
Jack  Goose,  the  jockey,  are  on  the  list  for  Thursday ; 
therefore  my  aunt's  attendance  at  the  Sunday  races  was 
merely  a  platonie  affair.  The  goings  on  here  are  past 
all  description.  The  stables  have  been  converted  into  a 
kind  of  fortress.  My  aunt  fancies  the  jockeys  of  other 
racing  studkeepers  shake  in   their   shoes   at  the  very 

16 


242  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

mention  of  Naughty  Boy,  and  are  ready  to  use  every 
means  to  prevent  his  running ;  consequently  in  every 
orange  boy  or  organ  grinder  that  comes  into  the  yard, 
she  sees  an  enemy  in  disguise,  bent  upon  some  evil  prac- 
tice. The  Swiss  porter  and  the  servants  have  strict 
orders  to  keep  an  eye  upon  everybody  that  comes  in.  In 
the  stables,  the  precautions  taken  are  still  stricter.  The 
trainer  Webb,  being  an  Englishman,  remains  impassive, 
but  the  unfortunate  Jack  Goose,  a  native  of  Burzany,  and 
whose  name  is  a  literal  translation  from  the  Polish  Kuba 
Gonsior,  fairly  loses  his  head ;  my  aunt  scolds  him  and 
the  grooms,  natives  also  of  Burzany,  whenever  she  fan- 
cies things  are  going  wrong.  She  was  so  much  at  the 
stables  that  I  did  not  see  much  of  her,  and  only  when 
departing  she  told  me  that  Aniela  was  to  come  for  the 
races.  I  suppose  Pani  Celina  consented  to  this  in  order 
to  please  my  aunt ;  besides,  she  can  very  well  remain  alone 
for  one  day,  with  the  doctor  and  the  maids  to  look  after 
her.  Aniela,  who  is  walled  up  at  Ploszow  day  after  day, 
really  wants  a  little  change.  For  me  this  is  joyful  news 
indeed.  The  very  thought  that  she  will  be  under  my 
roof  has  a  singular  charm  for  me.  Here  I  began  to  love 
her  and  maybe  her  heart  kept  beating  a  little  faster 
after  that  entertainment  my  aunt  gave  here  in  her  honor. 
Everything  here  will  remind  her  of  the  past. 

2  June. 
It  is  fortunate  I  did  not  have  the  rooms  altered  to  suit 

a  museum.  I  have  an  idea  to  give  a  dinner-party  after 
the  races.  In  this  way  I  shall  be  able  to  keep  her  here 
a  few  hours  longer,  —  and  besides,  she  will  understand 
that  it  is  all  for  her. 

3  June. 

I  ordered  a  cartload  of  plants  and  flowers  to  put  along 
the  staircase  and  in  the  rooms.  Ajiiela's  room  remains 
exactly  as  it  was  when  she  occupied  it.      I  suppose  the 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  243 

ladies  will  arrive  in  the  morning  and  Aniela  will  want 
to  change  her  dress.  I  had  a  large  mirror  put  there,  and 
every  requisite  for  a  lady's  toilet.  Aniela  will  meet 
everywhere  proofs  of  thoughtfulness,  memory,  and 
faithful  love.  Only  now,  while  writing,  it  strikes  me 
how  much  easier  I  feel  when  occupied  with  something, 
when  outward  activity  takes  me  out  of  the  enchanted 
circle  of  reflection  and  pondering  over  myself.  Even 
driving  nails  into  the  wall  for  the  pictures  of  the  future 
museum  would  be  better  than  twisting  one  idea  around 
another.  Why  cannot  I  be  a  simple-minded  man  ?  If 
I  had  been  that  in  times  gone  by  I  should  be  now  the 
happiest  man  in  the  world. 


4  June. 
I  went  to-day  to  invite  the  Sniatynskis  and  several 
other  people  to  dinner.  Sniatynski  has  spread  the  news 
of  my  founding  a  museum  for  the  public,  and  I  am  at 
present  the  hero  of  the  day.  All  the  papers  write  about 
it,  improving  the  occasion  as  usual  by  pitching  into  those 
that  waste  their  substance  abroad  instead  of  doing  good 
to  the  country.  I  know  their  style  so  well,  and  it  amuses 
me.  There  are  the  usual  phrases  about  a  citizen's  duties 
and  "  noblesse  oblige,"  but  it  suits  my  purpose.  I 
gathered  the  whole  packet  to  show  my  aunt  and  Aniela. 

5  June. 

The  races  have  been  fixed  a  day  sooner  because  of 
to-morrow's  holiday.  Aniela  and  my  aunt  arrived  this 
morning  with  a  maid  and  sundry  boxes  containing  their 
racing  toilets.  The  first  glance  at  Aniela  filled  me 
with  terror.  She  does  not  look  well  at  all ;  her  face 
is  wan  and  has  lost  its  former  warm  color;  it  seems 
smaller  too,  and  there  is  something  misty  about  her  that 
reminds  me  of  Puvis  de  Chawannes'  figures.  My  aunt 
and  her  mother  do  not  notice  it,  because  they  see  her 


244  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

every  day ;  but  to  me,  after  the  absence  of  a  few  days, 
the  change  is  very  remarkable.  I  am  seized  with  con- 
trition and  sincere  pity.  It  is  evident  that  the  inward 
struggle  is  telling  upon  her.  If  she  would  only  end  it, 
and  follow  the  dictates  of  a  heart  that  is  mine,  —  a  hun- 
dred times  mine  and  pleads  for  me,  —  all  her  troubles 
would  cease  and  happiness  begin.  I  am  getting  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  quicksands.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
I  knew  her  so  well ;  every  detail  and  every  feature 
stands  out  before  my  eyes  when  I  do  not  see  her,  and 
yet  when  I  meet  her,  after  a  few  days'  absence,  I  dis- 
cover a  new  charm,  and  find  something  new  I  like  in 
her.  How  she  satisfies  my  every  taste,  and  I  am  deeply 
conscious  that  she  is  my  type,  —  my  only  affinity.  This 
consciousness  gives  me  a  belief,  half  mystic,  half  ap- 
proaching the  natural  hypothesis,  that  she  was  meant  for 
me.  When  hearing  the  sound  of  wheels,  I  ran  down 
to  meet  her,  and  again  had  the  sensation  one  might  call 
falling  under  the  spell ;  again  the  reality  seemed  to  me 
more  perfect  than  the  picture  I  carry  in  my  heart.  She 
was  dressed  in  a  dust-cloak  of  Chinese  silk;  a  long 
gray  veil  was  twisted  round  her  hat  and  tied  under  her 
chin,  and  from  amid  that  frame  the  dear  face,  always 
more  like  a  girl's  than  a  married  woman's,  smiled  at  me. 
Her  greeting  was  more  cheerful  and  more  frank  than 
usual ;  it  was  evident  the  morning  drive  and  the  pros- 
pect of  a  little  pleasure  had  brightened  her  spirits ;  this 
filled  me  with  delight.  I  thought,  "  She  is  glad  to  see 
me  again,  and  Ploszow  appears  to  her  dull  and  empty 
without  me."  I  offered  one  arm  to  my  aunt  and  the 
other  to  Aniela,  as  the  staircase  is  wide  enough  for 
three  persons,  and  led  them  upstairs.  At  the  sight 
of  all  the  plants  and  flowers  she  uttered  a  little  cry  of 
wonder. 

"  It  is  my  surprise,"  I  said. 

I  pressed  her  arm  slightly,  so  slightly  that  it  might 
have  passed  for  an  accidental  movement,  and  then  turn- 
ing to  my  aunt,  said :  — 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  245 

**I  am  giving  a  dinner  in  honor  of  the  Ploszowski 
success." 

My  aunt  was  deeply  gratified  with  my  belief  in  that 
event.  Ah !  if  she  knew  how  little  I  care  for  Naughty 
Boy,  and  all  the  races  the  Ploszow  horses  might  win  on 
all  the  race-courses  of  Europe.  Aniela  evidently  guessed 
something  of  this,  but  she  was  in  such  spirits  that  she 
only  cast  a  passing  glance  at  me,  and  bit  her  lips  to  hide 
a  smile. 

I  well-nigh  lost  my  head.  In  the  covert  smile  I  saw 
a  shade  of  coquetry  I  had  never  noticed  there  before.  It 
is  impossible,  I  thought,  that  she  should  have  no  vanity 
whatever,  and  not  feel  flattered  in  the  least,  on  perceiv- 
ing that  all  I  am  doing  is  done  through  her  and  for 
her  sake. 

My  aunt  divested  herself  of  her  travelling-wraps,  and 
without  delay  went  to  inspect  Naughty  Boy  and  Aurora, 
and  I  showed  Aniela  the  list  of  the  invited  guests. 

"I  tried  to  bring  together  people  you  like;  but  if 
there  is  anybody  else  you  woidd  like  to  have,  I  will  go 
myself,  or  send  an  invitation." 

"Show  it  to  aunty;"  replied  Aniela,  "let  her  decide." 

"  No ;  aunty  will  sit  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  we 
shall  go  to  her  with  our  congratulations  or  condolences, 
as  the  case  may  be ;  but  the  part  of  lady  of  the  house  I 
have  assigned  to  you." 

Aniela  blushed  a  little,  and,  trying  to  change  the  con- 
versation, said :  — 

"  Leon,  I  do  hope  Naughty  Boy  will  win ;  aunty  has 
set  her  heart  upon  it,  and  will  be  so  vexed  if  it  should 
turn  out  otherwise." 

"  I  have  won  already,  because  I  have  as  guest  under 
my  roof  a  certain  small  person  who  is  sitting  opposite 
me." 

"  You  are  making  fun ;  but  I  am  really  anxious  about 
it." 

"  My  aunt,"  I  replied,  more  seriously,  "  will  have  some 
compensation  if  she  loses.     My  collections  will  be  in 


246  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Warsaw  in  a  few  weeks,  and  this  has  been  the  dearest 
wish  of  her  life.     She  always  tried  to  make  my  father 
give  them  to  the  town.     All  the  papers  are  full  of  it, 
and  praise  me  to  an  extent  you  have  no  idea  of." 
The  dear  face  lit  up  with  pleasure. 
"  Show  me ;  read  it  to  me,"  she  said  eagerly. 
I  had  a  desire  to  kiss  her  hands  for  that  glimpse  of 
brightness.     It  was  a  new  proof.     If  I  were  indifferent 
to  her,  would  she  rejoice  so  much  when  I  am  praised? 

"  Not  now,"  I  replied.  "  I  will  read  it  when  my  aunt 
comes  back,  or  rather  she  must  read  it,  and  I  will  hide 
my  blushes  behind  you ;  you,  at  least,  shall  not  see  how 
foolish  I  look." 

"  Why  should  you  look  foolish  ?  " 
"Because  the  thing  is  not  worth  all  the  fuss,  and  if 
there  be  any  merit  in  it,  it  is  yours,  not  mine.  They 
ought  to  praise  you.  I  would  give  a  good  deal  if  I  could 
tell  those  journalists:  'If  you  think  well  of  it,  go  en 
masse  and  kneel  at  certain  little  feet  and  pour  out  your 
gratitude  there  ! '  " 

"  Leon  !  Leon !  "  interrupted  Aniela. 
"  Now  do  not  say  a  word,  lest  I  should  feel  tempted 
to  divulge  the  great  secret." 

Aniela  did  not  know  what  to  say.  The  words  were 
those  of  a  man  in  love  ;  but  the  tone  was  so  playful  and 
jesting  that  she  could  not  possibly  receive  them  in  a 
tragic  spirit. 

I  was  glad  I  had  discovered  a  way  by  which  I  could 
convey  a  deeper  meaning  without  absolutely  frightening 
her.  But  I  did  not  take  too  much  advantage  of  it,  and 
presently,  in  a  more  serious  tone,  began  telling  her  about 
the  projected  changes  in  the  house. 

"  The  whole  story  is  to  be  given  up  to  the  collections, 
with  the  exception  of  the  room  in  which  you  lived  last 
winter.  This  remains  as  it  was.  I  have  only  permitted 
myself  to  adorn  it  a  little  for  your  reception." 

Saying  this  I  led  her  to  the  door.  Standing  on  the 
threshold  she  exclaimed  with  astonishment :  — 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  247 

"  Oh,  what  lovely  flowers  !  " 

I  said  in  a  low  voice  :  — 

"  And  you  the  most  lovely  among  them ! " 

Then  added,  earnestly  :  — 

"You  believe  me,  Aniela,  if  I  tell  you  that  it  is  in  this 
room  I  wish  to  die  some  day  ! " 

Oh,  how  much  sincerity  there  was  in  these  words. 
Aniela's  face  grew  misty;  all  the  radiance  had  gone. 
I  saw  that  my  words  had  touched  a  chord,  as  all  words 
do  that  come  from  the  depth  of  the  soul.  For  a  moment 
her  whole  body  swayed  as  if  some  inward  power  pushed 
her  towards  me.  But  she  resisted  still.  She  stood  be- 
fore me,  her  eyes  veiled  by  the  long  lashes,  and  said, 
with  mournful  dignity  :  — 

"  Let  me  be  at  ease  with  you,  Leon ;  do  not  sadden  me." 

"Very  well,  Aniela;  I  will  not  say  anything  more; 
here  is  my  hand  upon  it." 

I  gave  her  my  hand,  and  she  pressed  it  warmly,  as  if 
by  that  pressure  she  wanted  to  say  all  she  forbade  her 
lips  to  utter.  It  indemnified  me  for  all  I  had  suffered, 
and  almost  made  me  stagger  on  my  feet.  For  the  first 
time  I  felt  distinctly  that  I  was  taking  for  my  own  this 
being,  —  body  and  soul.  It  was  a  sensation  of  such  im- 
measurable happiness  as  to  cause  me  almost  pain.  New, 
unknown  worlds  began  to  open  for  me.  From  this  mo- 
ment I  grew  quite  convinced  that  her  resistance  was  only 
a  question  of  time. 

My  aunt  returned  from  the  stables  in  excellent  humor ; 
no  attempt  had  been  made  upon  Naughty  Boy's  pre- 
cious health.  The  trainer,  Webb,  to  all  inquiries,  had 
the  same  answer,  —  "  All  right."  Jack  Goose  was  ani- 
mated by  the  boldest  spirit.  We  went  to  the  window  to 
see  the  future  conquerors  come  from  the  stables ;  for  it 
was  time  they  went  to  the  Mokotoff  Field,  there  to  pace 
around  until  their  turn  arrived.  A  few  minutes  later  we 
saw  the  grooms  leading  them  into  the  yard,  encased  from 
top  to  bottom  as  in  a  pillow-slip.  Only  the  soft  eyes 
were  visible  through  the  slit ;  and  from  below,  the  shapely 


248  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

feet  that  seemed  wrought  in  steel.  They  were  followed 
by  Webb  and  our  little  home-bred  Englishman,  Jack 
Goose,  in  a  new  overcoat,  which  concealed  his  silks  and 
jockey-boots.  I  called  out  to  him  through  the  open 
window :  — 

"  Mind,  and  don't  get  beaten,  Kuba ! " 

He  raised  his  cap,  and  pointing  with  it  at  Naughty 
Boy,  replied  in  the  purest,  not  London,  but  Bursany, 
dialect : — 

"  Bedom  prosz  jaśnie  hrabiego  widzieli,  ale  ino  jego- 
zad."  (They  will  see  him,  my  lord,  but  only  his  hind- 
quarters.) 

We  sat  down  to  a  hurried  lunch;  nevertheless  my 
aunt  had  time  to  read  what  the  papers  had  to  say  about 
the  future  museum.  It  is  strange  how  sensitive  women 
are  to  public  applause  for  their  nearest  mankind.  My 
aunt  fairly  beamed  at  me  through  her  spectacles,  and 
was  incomparable  when  she  now  and  then,  interrupting 
the  reading,  glanced  keenly  at  Aniela,  and  then  said  in 
her  most  dogmatic  tone :  — 

"  They  do  not  exaggerate  the  least  bit.  He  was  al- 
ways like  that." 

Praise  heaven  there  was  not  another  sceptic  mind  pre- 
sent, otherwise  I  should  have  looked  foolish  indeed. 

It  was  time  for  the  ladies  to  dress.  Before  leaving 
the  room  my  aunt  turned  to  me  and  said  with  the  most 
innocent  expression  of  face :  — 

"  We  must  be  quick,  for  I  promised  to  call  for  Panna 
Zawiło wski ;  she  was  going  with  her  father,  but  as  he  is 
suffering  from  an  attack  of  gout  I  shall  have  to  chaperon 
her." 

With  this  she  went  to  her  room.  We  looked  at  each 
other,  Aniela  and  I ;  the  corners  of  her  mouth  twitched 
with  merriment.  "  Aniela,  it  is  a  new  matrimonial 
scheme,  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  She  put  a  finger  to  her  lips 
in  warning  that  I  spoke  too  loud,  and  disappeared  within 
her  room ;  presently  the  lovely  head  peeped  out  through 
the  half-open  door, 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  249 

"  I  just  remembered  you  have  not  asked  Miss  Hilst," 
she  said. 

"  No,  I  have  not  asked  her." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  I  love  her  on  the  sly,"  I  retorted,  laughing. 

"  Seriously,  why  did  you  not  invite  her  ?  " 

"  If  you  wish  I  will  invite  her  now." 

"It  is  as  you  wish,"  she  replied,  and  disappeared 
again. 

But  I  preferred  not  to  invite  Miss  Hilst. 

An  hour  later  we  were  driving  in  the  Belvederski  Ave- 
nue. Aniela  wore  a  cream-colored  dress  trimmed  with 
lace.  I  have  such  a  knack  of  saying  with  my  eyes  what 
my  lips  must  not  utter,  that  Aniela  read  in  them  my 
rapture.  I  recognized  it  in  her  face,  that  looked  half- 
pleased,  half-vexed.  We  stopped  on  the  way  before  the 
Zawilowski  villa,  and  before  I  had  time  to  ring,  the 
door  opened,  and  Panna  Zawilowska  herself  came  out. 
She  stood  before  me  a  vision  in  silver  gray,  rather  a  cold 
vision,  as  she  barely  nodded  to  me  before  going  to  my 
aunt.  She  is  rather  plain  than  pretty,  —  a  blond  with 
steely  blue  eyes  and  studied  manners.  She  is  consid- 
ered a  very  pattern  of  distinction,  and  with  good  reason ; 
that  is,  if  distinction  means  the  same  as  stiffness.  Her 
treatment  of  me  is  as  cold  as  her  eyes,  too  cold  even  to 
be  quite  natural.  If  this  is  a  method  adopted  on  pur- 
pose to  chafe  my  vanity,  it  is  very  foolish,  for  it  only 
bores  me,  and  does  not  provoke  me  in  the  least.  I  am 
rather  glad  of  it,  as  it  permits  me  to  pay  her  only  such 
attentions  as  simple  politeness  exacts. 

To-day  I  paid  her  a  little  more  attention ;  she  served 
me  in  fact  as  a  screen  to  avert  any  suspicion  from 
Aniela.  Presently  we  drove  on  again,  but  veiy  slowly, 
as  in  front  and  in  rear  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  all 
sorts  of  vehicles  were  moving  in  the  same  direction. 
Before  us  and  behind,  there  was  a  perfect  stream  of  sun- 
shades ;  the  various  colors  of  which  shone  in  the  sun 
and  created  a  warmly  tinted  shadow  from  beneath  whicl) 


250  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

peeped  forth  women's  heads  with  delicate  and  refined 
features.  There  was  the  average  number  of  pretty  faces, 
but  they  expressed  a  want  of  temperament.  I  did  not 
even  see  it  in  the  financial  world,  which,  besides  many 
other  things,  puts  on  temperament  rather  than  possesses 
it  in  reality.  Among  the  carriages  not  a  few  displayed 
considerable  taste,  and  the  bright  toilets  changing  and 
gleaming  in  the  sun  on  a  background  of  green  trees,  the 
crowds  of  fine  people  and  fine  horses  gave  the  whole 
show  a  highly  civilized  appearance,  not  lacking  either  in 
picturesqueness.  I  was  glad  to  see  Aniela  pleased  with 
the  motion  and  turmoil.  Replying  to  my  casual  remarks 
she  looked  at  me  with  gratitude  as  if  it  were  I  that  had 
arranged  it  all  for  her  pleasure.  Sitting  opposite,  I  could 
look  at  her  without  constraint,  but  I  turned  oftener  to- 
wards Panna  Zawilowska,  from  whom  blew  a  cold  air, 
as  from  a  decanter  of  iced  water,  which  began  to  amuse 
me ;  her  words  and  manner  seemed  to  imply  that  she 
agreed  to  my  society,  because  politeness  did  not  permit 
her  to  do  otherwise.  I  treated  her  with  a  certain  good- 
humored  courtesy  that  seemed  to  iritate  her  not  a  little. 

We  arrived  at  last  on  the  Mokotoffskie  Pola.  There 
was  a  reserved  place  near  the  grand  stand  for  my  aunt's 
carriage,  and  presently  various  acquaintances  with  tickets 
stuck  on  their  hats  came  up  and  congratulated  her  upon 
the  promising  appearance  of  Naughty  Boy.  One  of  the 
greatest  horsebreeders  said  to  her  that  the  horse  was  a 
splendid  animal,  though  not  sufficiently  trained  ;  but  as 
the  turf  was  soft  from  yesterday's  rain,  a  strong  animal 
like  Naughty  Boy  stood  a  fair  chance  of  coming  in  a 
winner. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  he  spoke  a  little  ironically,  which 
made  me  feel  uneasy.  Naughty  Boy's  defeat  would 
spoil  the  day  for  my  aunt,  and  indirectly  for  me,  too, 
as  her  bad  humor  would  damp  our  pleasure.  In  the 
mean  while  I  looked  around  me  at  the  field,  and  searched 
for  known  faces.  The  race  course  was  thronged  with  peo- 
ple.   The  grand  stand  looked  like  a  dark,  compact  mass, 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  251 

relieved  by  bright  female  toilets.  The  course  was 
surrounded  by  rows  after  rows  of  spectators ;  even  the 
town  walls  were  alive  with  them.  On  either  side  of  the 
grand  stand  stood  a  long  line  of  carriages ;  each  separately 
looked  like  a  flower-basket.  Not  very  far  from  where  I 
stood  I  became  suddenly  aware  of  a  pink  face  and  agres- 
sive  little  nose  that  could  not  belong  to  anybody  but 
Pani  Sniatynska.  I  went  up  to  her  and  she  told  me  her 
husband  had  just  left  her  to  look  for  Miss  Hilst;  and 
then,  almost  in  one  breath,  asked  me  how  my  aunt  was, 
whether  Aniela  was  at  the  races,  how  the  ladies  would 
manage  their  journey  to  Gastein  since  Paul  Celina  could 
not  walk,  whether  I  thought  Naughty  Boy  would  win  the 
race,  and  what  we  would  do  if  he  lost,  and  how  many 
people  had  I  invited  to  dinner.  "While  standing  near 
her  carriage  I  noticed  what  a  sweet  expression  her  face 
has,  and  the  pretty  foot  that  peeped  forth  from  the  car- 
riage ;  but  as  to  answering  all  the  questions,  I  should 
have  to  borrow  Gargantua's  mouth,  as  Shakspeare  says. 
Replying  to  one  or  two  of  the  questions  and  saying  I 
hoped  to  see  her  after  the  races,  I  followed  Sniatynski's 
track  in  search  of  Clara.  I  found  her  carriage  not  far 
from  my  aunt's.  Clara  looked  like  a  hill  covered  with 
heliotrope  blossoms.  I  found  her  surrounded  by  a  host 
of  admirers  and  artists,  conversing  gayly  with  them.  Her 
face  clouded  when  she  saw  me,  and  my  reception  was  of 
the  coolest.  A  friendly  word  from  me  would  have  changed 
all  that,  but  I  remained  cold ;  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour's 
polite  and  ceremonious  conversation,  I  went  farther,  ex- 
changing here  and  there  a  few  words  with  people  I  knew, 
and  then  turned  toward  our  own  carriage.  The  first  two 
races  had  taken  place,  and  Naughty  Boy's  turn  came  at 
last. 

I  looked  at  my  aunt ;  the  expression  of  her  face  was 
very  solemn ;  she  evidently  tried  her  best  to  keep  cool. 
On  the  contrary,  Aniela's  face  showed  evident  uneasiness. 
We  had  to  wait  some  time  before  the  horses  came  out^ 
because  the  weighing  lasted  unusually  long.     Suddenly 


252  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Sniatynski  came  running  up,  gesticulating  with  both 
hands,  and  showing  some  bits  of  paper. 

"I  have  put  a  pot  of  money  on  Naughty  Boy,"  he 
exclaimed;  "if  he  betrays  me,  I  shall  have  to  throw  my- 
self upon  your  well-known  charity." 

"  I  trust  —  "  began  my  aunt,  with  all  her  dignity. 

But  she  did  not  finish  her  sentence,  as  at  this  moment 
from  amid  the  dark  mass  of  people  there  rose  the  vari- 
colored caps  and  silks  of  the  jockeys.  The  horses  were 
slowly  trotting  along.  Some  of  them,  finding  themselves 
in  the  open,  quickened  their  pace ;  others  followed  more 
leisurely.  At  the  start  they  passed  us  in  a  group  and 
not  very  fast,  so  as  to  save  their  horses'  strength,  the 
race  being  a  double  one.  But  at  the  second  turn  they 
were  drawn  out  in  a  line.  It  looked  as  if  the  wind  had 
scattered  the  petals  of  some  flowers  along  the  road.  The 
first  was  a  jockey  in  white,  closely  followed  by  another 
in  pale  blue  and  red,  then  two  together,  one  in  red,  the 
other  in  red  and  yellow ;  our  Kuba  in  orange  and  black  was 
last  but  one,  followed  by  a  jockey  in  white  and  blue.  This 
order  did  not  last  long.  When  the  horses  had  reached 
the  other  side  of  the  course,  there  arose  some  commo- 
tion in  the  carriages.  The  more  excited  ladies  climbed 
up  on  the  seats  so  as  not  to  lose  the  least  part  of  the 
race ;  their  example  was  followed  by  my  aunt,  who  evi- 
dently could  not  sit  still  any  longer. 

Aniela  offered  her  place  to  Panna  Zawilowska,  who, 
after  some  ceremonious  protests,  accepted  it;  and  I 
helped  Aniela  to  the  back  seat,  and,  as  she  had  nothing 
to  hold  on  by,  offered  her  my  hand.  I  confess  that  I 
did  not  think  of  the  race  so  much  as  of  the  dear  little 
hand  that  rested  so  trustingly  in  mine. 

My  aunt's  back  obscured  the  view  a  little ;  but  raising 
myself  on  tiptoe,  I  swept  the  whole  field  with  my  eyes, 
and  saw  the  jockeys  drawing  near  the  curve  of  the  other 
side.  Seen  from  this  distance,  they  looked  like  bright- 
colored  beetles  flying  through  the  air ;  the  motion  ap- 
peared slow,  and  the  throwing  out  of  the  horses'  fore 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  253 

and  hind  legs  almost  mechanical.  But  in  spite  of  the 
apparent  slowness,  they  cleared  the  ground  very  swiftly. 

The  order  of  the  riders  was  changed  again.  The 
white  was  still  leading,  followed  by  the  red;  but  our 
Kuba  was  third  now.  The  others  remained  behind,  and 
the  distance  between  them  grew  wider  every  moment. 
Naughty  Boy  was  evidently  not  the  worst  among  them. 
For  a  moment  I  lost  sight  of  him,  and  presently  saw 
him  again  as  they  passed  us.  The  red  was  close  upon 
the  white,  and  Kuba  gaining  ground.  I  now  observed 
for  the  first  time  that  the  white  would  have  no  chance, 
as  the  horse's  flanks  shone  with  moisture,  as  if  water 
had  been  poured  over  him.  It  was  clear  the  race  would 
lie  between  the  red  and  orange  and  black.  At  the 
worst,  Naughty  Boy  would  be  second,  and  the  defeat 
not  so  complete.  What  inspired  me  with  confidence 
was  the  horse's  pace ;  he  threw  out  his  legs  so  evenly, 
as  if  he  performed  a  daily  task.  The  spectators'  excite- 
ment became  greater  every  moment. 

"  Has  Naughty  Boy  lost  ? "  asked  Aniela,  in  a  low, 
excited  voice,  seeing  the  order  in  which  the  horses  came 
past  the  stand. 

"  No,  dear  ;  they  have  still  another  round,"  I  replied, 
pressing  her  hand  slightly.  She  did  not  withdraw  her 
hand ;  it  is  true  that  her  whole  attention  was  absorbed 
in  the  race.  When  the  horses  came  to  the  other  side, 
Kuba  was  second,  the  white  was  so  exhausted  that  he 
had  to  fall  back,  and  the  three  following  riders  came  up 
to  him.  It  was  now  a  race  between  the  two,  and  there 
were  only  five  or  six  lengths  between  them.  Suddenly 
a  loud  murmur  from  the  stand  told  us  that  something 
unusual  had  happened ;  Kuba  was  coming  up  to  his 
adversary.  The  murmurs  on  the  stand  grew  into  a 
tumult.  Aniela  was  so  carried  away  by  excitement  that 
she  squeezed  my  hand  nervously,  and  asked  every  moment, 
"  What  are  they  doing  now  ?  "  The  riders  were  on  the 
left  side  of  the  field.  The  red,  by  the  help  of  his  whip, 
had  gained  a  little  j  but  presently  Naughty  Boy  almost 


254  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

touched  him  with  his  nose.  In  this  furious  pace  they 
came  both  on  a  line  with  the  stand,  where  we  lost  sight 
of  them  again.  The  struggle  would  be  over  now  in  a 
few  seconds.  On  the  stand  there  was  a  momentary 
silence,  which  suddenly  changed  into  loud,  prolonged 
cheering.  Many  people  were  running  along  the  lines 
which  hide  the  road,  and  at  this  moment  we  saw 
the  red  nostrils ;  the  horse's  head,  stretched  out  like 
a  cord,  orange  and  black,  was  carried  along  as  if  by  a 
hurricane.  The  bell  rang  on  the  grand  stand,  —  the 
victory  was  ours. 

The  red  had  lost  by  a  dozen  lengths. 

I  must  say  for  my  aunt  that  she  never  lost  her  self- 
possession.  Nobody  but  me  noticed  the  few  drops  of 
perspiration  which  stood  on  her  forehead ;  she  fanned 
with  her  pocket-handkerchief.  Aniela  was  excited, 
amused,  and  happy.  We  both  congratulated  our  aunt ; 
even  Panna  Zawilowska  said  a  few  French  sentences, 
stiff  and  proper,  as  if  taken  from  a  copy-book.  Pres- 
ently a  crowd  of  acquaintances  thronged  around  our 
carriage,  and  my  aunt's  triumph  was  complete. 

I  was  also  intoxicated,  but  by  something  quite  differ- 
ent ;  namely,  the  pressure  of  Aniela's  hand.  In  vain  I 
said  to  myself  that  it  was  nothing  but  the  excitement  of 
the  moment ;  because  it  occurred  to  me  that  a  woman's 
resistance  often  passes  a  crisis  in  such  moments  of  exalt- 
ation, when  carried  beside  herself  by  some  amusement, 
beautiful  view,  or  other  circumstance  different  from  the 
even  tenor  of  every-day  life.  Then  a  certain  relaxa- 
tion of  the  nerves  takes  place,  in  presence  of  which  a 
loss  of  the  usual  balance  is  easily  explained.  Taking 
into  account  this  special  state  of  Aniela's  mind,  I  arrived 
at  the  conclusion  that  she  did  not  fight  against  her  feel- 
ing any  longer ;  and  I  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  it. 

I  suppose  at  Ploszow  there  will  be  no  difficulty  about 
a  chance.  We  go  back  to-morrow.  To-day's  entertain- 
ment, the  dinner,  the  conversation,  and  the  excitement 
are  so  many  drops  of  narcotic.     She  does  not  even  sup- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  255 

pose  what  happiness  there  is  in  store  for  us ;  but  she 
must  surrender  her  soul  to  me,  wholly  and  uncon- 
ditionally. 

Though  my  aunt  had  notified  Pani  Celina  that  we 
might  remain  at  Warsaw  until  the  next  day,  we  really 
intended  going  back  after  dinner,  —  when  something  oc- 
curred that  prevented  our  starting.  Dinner  and  tea 
afterwards  lasted  until  ten  o'clock.  When  the  last  ol 
our  guests  had  departed  somebody  came  to  tell  my  aunt 
that  Naughty  Boy  had  been  taken  ill.  There  was  a  great 
confusion.  The  vet  was  sent  for  in  a  hurry,  but  it  was 
midnight  before  he  arrived.  My  aunt  would  not  think 
of  going  so  late  as  that. 

Aniela  wanted  to  go  very  much,  but  knew  I  would  have 
to  go  with  her ;  and  she  is  still  afraid  of  me.  My  aunt 
told  her  she  would  only  rouse  the  whole  house,  disturb- 
ing thereby  her  mother,  and  wound  up  by  saying :  — 

"  Leon  does  not  mind  my  looking  at  his  house  as  my 
own  ;  consequently  you  are  my  guest.  It  would  be  the 
same  if  I  gave  up  Ploszow  to  him ;  I  should  live  there, 
and  you  with  me,  —  at  least,  so  long  as  Celina  has  not 
recovered  her  health." 

And  finally  Aniela  had  to  remain. 

It  is  now  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  It  is  already 
growing  light ;  but  lanterns  are  still  flitting  across 
the  yard  near  the  stables,  where  they  are  busy  with 
Naughty  Boy. 

My  aunt,  when  wishing  us  good-night,  announced  that 
she  intended  to  remain  a  day  longer  at  Warsaw ;  where- 
upon I  said  that  I  had  left  some  papers  at  Ploszow,  and 
would  go  and  fetch  them,  and  see  Aniela  home  at  the 
same  time.  We  shall  be  alone,  and  I  will  hesitate  no 
longer.  The  blood  rushes  to  my  heart  at  the  thought 
that  I  shall  travel,  though  only  a  short  distance,  with 
the  dear  love  close  to  my  heart,  and  listen  to  her  confes- 
sion that  she  loves  me  as  much  as  I  love  her. 

The  sky  is  clouded,  and  it  has  begun  to  rain.  A  few 
hours  only  divide  me  from  the  moment  when  a  new  life 


256  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

is  to  begin  for  me.  Of  course  I  do  not  sleep ;  I  could 
not  sleep  now  for  anything  in  the  world.  There  is  no 
heaviness  on  my  eyelids,  —  I  write,  and  recall  mem- 
ories. I  still  seem  to  feel  the  pressure  of  her  hand  on 
mine.  I  made  that  soul,  educated,  developed  it,  and 
prepared  it  for  love.  I  am  like  the  head  of  an  army,  who 
has  foreseen  all  chances,  arranged  and  calculated  every- 
thing, and  does  not  sleep  on  the  eve  of  the  day  that  will 
decide  his  fate.  But  Aniela  sleeps  peacefully  on  the 
other  side  of  the  house  ;  and  even  her  dreams  plead  for 
me,  for  my  love.  When  I  think  of  this,  all  my  nerves 
are  vibrating. 

In  that  ocean  of  trouble,  evil,  foolishness,  uncer- 
tainties, and  doubts  we  call  life,  there  is  one  thing 
worth  living  for,  as  certain  and  as  strong  as  —  nay, 
stronger  than  —  death ;  and  that  is  love.  Beyond  it 
there  is  nothingness. 

6  June. 
I  went  with  Aniela,  and  am  even  now  asking  myself, 
"  Have  I  gone  mad  ?  "  I  did  not  hold  her  close  to  my 
heart,  did  not  hear  an  avowal  of  love.  I  was  spurned 
without  a  moment's  hesitation  ;  all  her  modesty  risen  in 
arms,  she  reduced  me  to  a  mere  nothing.  What  is  it  ? 
Am  I  a  fool  without  brains,  or  has  she  no  heart  ?  What 
am  I  fighting  against  ?  What  are  the  obstacles  in  my 
way  ?  Why  does  she  spurn  me  ?  My  head  is  in  such  a 
chaotic  state  that  I  can  neither  think,  write,  nor  reason. 
I  only  repeat  to  myself,  over  and  over  again,  "  What  is 
it  that  bars  my  way  ?  " 


7  June. 
I  have  made  an  enormous  mistake  somewhere ;  there 
is  something  in  Aniela  I  have  not  observed  or  taken 
into  account.  For  two  days  I  have  tried  to  understand 
what  has  happened  to  me,  but  my  head  was  in  such  a 
whirl  that  I  could  not  think.     Now  I  am  collecting  my 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  257 

thoughts,  pulling  myself  together  to  look  the  situation 
in  the  face.  It  would  be  clear  enough  if  Aniela  were 
guarded  by  a  strong  love  for  her  husband.  I  could  un- 
derstand then  the  offended  modesty  and  indignation 
with  which  a  being,  so  meek  and  sweet-tempered  usually, 
spurned  me  from  her  feet.  But  I  cannot  even  suppose 
such  a  thing.  I  have  still  enough  brains  left  to  know 
that  it  is  a  mistake  to  see  things  too  black,  as  it  is  a  mis- 
take to  see  them  too  rose-colored.  Where  should  her 
love  for  Kromitzki  hare  come  from  ?  She  married  him 
without  love.  In  the  short  time  they  lived  together,  he 
deceived  her  and  sold  the  land  so  dear  to  both  of  those 
women,  and  injured  her  mother's  health.  They  have  no 
child ;  besides,  a  child  does  not  teach  a  woman  to  love 
her  husband ;  it  only  teaches  her  to  take  him  into  ac- 
count ;  it  makes  her  safer,  —  that  is  to  say,  it  strengthens 
the  union  of  hands,  not  of  hearts.  Aniela  besides  does 
not  belong  to  that  kind  of  women  to  whom  love  comes 
suddenly,  as  a  revelation  after  marriage;  women  like 
that  pine  more  after  their  husbands,  or  more  readily 
take  a  lover.  I  speak  of  all  this  in  such  a  matter  of  fact 
way  that  it  hurts  me ;  but  why  should  I  spare  myself  ? 
Finally,  I  am  convinced  she  has  no  feeling  even  ap- 
proaching to  love  for  Kromitzki,  —  what  is  more,  does 
not  even  respect  him;  she  does  not  permit  herself  to 
despise  him,  that  is  all.  I  consider  that  as  proved, 
otherwise  I  should  be  blind. 

Then  if  her  heart  at  the  moment  of  my  return  was  a 
tabula  rasa  I  must  have  contrived  to  write  something  on 
it,  I  who  managed  this  in  other  conditions,  and  was  more 
bent  on  it  than  I  ever  was  on  anything  in  my  life,  who 
worked  upon  her  feelings  of  friendship,  touched  the 
chords  of  pity  and  memories  of  the  past,  not  neglecting 
anything,  considering  every  trifle,  and  moreover  am  pos- 
sessed of  the  power  a  strong,  earnest  feeling  gives.  I 
take  myself  by  the  shoulders  :  ''  jNIan,  whatever  you  may 
be,  you  are  not  a  provincial  lion,  that  considers  himself 
irresistible  to  any  woman  chance  throws   in  his  way; 

17. 


258  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

have  you  not  deluded  yourself  into  the  belief  that  she 
loves  you  ?" 

What  speaks  in  favor  of  its  being  a  delusion  ? 

At  the  tirst  glance,  her  resistance. 

But  I  never  supposed  for  a  moment  that  she  would  not 
resist.  I  fancy  to  myself  any  other  married  woman,  de- 
sperately in  love  with  another  man ;  can  one  suppose  she 
would  not  resist  and  struggle  against  it  and  the  loved 
one,  until  her  strength  gave  way  ?  Resistance  is  not  the 
outcome  of  love,  but  since  those  two  forces  can  exist 
side  by  side  like  two  birds  in  a  nest,  one  does  not  ex- 
clude the  other. 

I  write  this  diary  not  only  because  it  has  become  my 
second  nature,  my  passion,  not  only  because  it  gives  an 
outlet  for  my  pent-up  feelings,  but  still  more  because 
it  gives  me  a  clear  view  and  keeps  account  of  all  that  is 
passing.  I  read  over  again  the  pages  where  I  have  writ- 
ten down  my  and  Aniela's  history  from  the  time  of  my 
arrival  at  Ploszow.  I  have  taken  note  of  well-nigh  every 
glance,  every  smile  and  tear,  caught  every  tremor  of  her 
heart ;  and  no !  I  do  not  deceive  myself,  the  analysis  is  not 
wrong !  Hers  were  the  tears,  the  words,  the  glances  and 
smiles  of  a  woman  —  maybe  unhappy  —  but  not  indiffer- 
ent. I  must  have  influenced  her,  made  an  impression  upon 
her.  I  am  not  blind ;  it  tears  my  heart  day  after  day  to 
see  how  her  face  is  getting  smaller,  the  hands  more 
transparent  —  and  it  makes  my  hair  stand  on  end  to 
think  she  is  paying  out  her  life  in  this  struggle.  But  all 
these  are  invincible  proofs.  Her  heart,  her  thoughts  be- 
long to  me.  For  that  very  reason  she  is  unhappy  —  per- 
haps even  more  unhappy  than  I. 

I  read  over  what  I  wrote  a  moment  ago,  —  that  I 
did  not  even  suppose  she  would  not  resist.  I  thought 
so  soon  after  my  return  to  Ploszow,  but  lately  and  when 
she  was  at  Warsaw  I  fancied  that  I  saw  signs  of  yield- 
ing. I  was  wrong.  She  did  not  give  way  in  the  least, 
showed  no  sign  of  pity ;  my  words  to  which  she  would 
not  even  listen  seemed  blasphemy  to  her.     I  saw  in  her 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  259 

eyes  sparks  of  anger  and  resentment ;  slie  tore  away  her 
hands  I  covered  with  kisses,  and  the  words  :  "  You  insult 
me  ! "  were  continually  on  her  lips.  Her  energy  daunted 
me  the  more  as  I  had  least  expected  such  an  explosion 
of  wrath.  Ah  me  !  She  threatened  to  leave  the  carriage 
and  go  on  foot  in  the  pelting  rain  to  Ploszow.  The  word 
"  divorce  "  acted  upon  her  as  a  red-hot  iron.  I  obtained 
nothing,  nothing,  nothing  with  all  my  eloquence  and 
audacity ;  neither  my  entreaties  nor  my  love  moved  her ; 
she  took  everything  as  an  insult  to  her  womanhood, 
spurned  my  love  and  trampled  on  it.  To-day  when  I  see 
her  so  meek  and  sweet-tempered  it  seems  like  a  horrid 
dream,  and  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  it  is  the  same 
woman.  I  cannot  hide  it  from  myself  ;  I  have  met  with 
a  defeat  so  complete  and  decisive  that  if  I  had  the 
strength,  or  anything  else  to  live  for  I  ought  to  go  away 
at  once. 

Supposing  she  does  love  me,  what  good  can  it  be  to  me 
if  that  feeling  is  to  remain  for  ever  imprisoned  within 
her  own  heart,  and  never  show  itself  —  either  in  word  or 
deed  ?  I  might  as  well  be  loved  by  Greek  Helen,  Cleo- 
patra, Beatrice,  or  Mary  Stuart.  Such  must  be  the  feel- 
ing which  does  not  desire  anything,  exact  anything,  and 
is  sufficient  unto  itself.  Maybe  her  heart  belongs  to 
me,  but  it  is  a  faint  heart,  incapable  of  any  action. 

Possibly  she  poses  before  herself  as  a  lofty  soul,  sacri- 
ficing her  love  upon  the  altar  of  duty  —  and  pleases  her- 
self in  that  pose.  It  is  a  satisfaction  worth  doing  some- 
thing for.  Be  it  so !  Sacrifice  me ;  but  if  you  think 
you  sacrifice  much  in  immolating  your  feeling,  and  feed 
your  duty  upon  it,  you  are  mistaken.  I  cannot,  I  cannot 
either  think  or  write  calmly. 


8  June. 

A  coquette  is  like  a  usurer,  giving  very  little  and  exact- 
ing upon  it  a  high  percentage.  To-day,  as  I  am  growing 
more   composed  and  can  think  again,  I   must  render 


260  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Aniela  justice  ;  she  never  encouraged  me  or  exacted 
anything.  What  I  mistook  for  a  touch  of  coquetry  at 
Warsaw  was  mere  joyfulness  of  a  youthful  spirit  that 
had  shaken  itself  momentarily  free  from  all  trouble.  All 
that  has  happened  was  brought  on  by  me.  I  made  mis- 
take after  mistake,  and  it  is  all  my  fault. 

To  know  something,  and  to  make  it  a  matter  of  calcu- 
lation are  two  different  things.  We  account  to  our- 
selves for  unknown  factors  which  act  upon  the  soul  of  a 
given  individual,  but  in  dealing  with  the  same  we  generally 
take  ourselves  as  a  point  of  issue.  This  happened  to  me. 
I  knew,  or  at  least  was  conscious  of  the  fact,  that  Aniela 
and  I  are  as  different  from  each  other  as  if  we  were  the 
inhabitants  of  two  separate  planets,  but  I  did  not  always 
remember  it.  Involuntarily  I  counted  upon  her  acting 
in  a  certain  position  as  I  should  have  acted. 

In  spite  of  the  consciousness  that  we  two  are  the  most 
dissimilar  beings  under  the  sun,  as  opposite  as  the  poles, 
I  note  it  down  with  a  certain  surprise,  and  seem  not  able 
to  get  used  to  the  thought.  And  yet  it  is  true.  I  am  a 
thousand  times  more  like  Laura  Davis  than  Aniela. 

And  now  I  begin  to  understand  why  I  failed. 

The  rock  I  split  against  is  the  want  of  that  which  has 
vanished  within  me,  thereby  freeing  my  thoughts,  but 
bringing  instead  of  it  the  mortal  disease  that  has  become 
my  tragedy ;  it  is  the  catechismal  simplicity  of  the  soul. 

Now  I  can  account  for  it  clearly,  perhaps  not  quite 
satisfactorily,  for  I  am  of  so  complex  a  disposition  as  to 
have  lost  the  very  instinct  of  simplicity.  "  I  hear  thy 
voice,  but  I  see  thee  not."  My  spiritual  sight  suffers  from 
Daltonian  disease  and  cannot  distinguish  colors. 

I  cannot  even  understand  how  any  one  can  accept  a 
principle,  however  hallowed  by  ages,  without  looking  at 
it  from  both  sides,  pulling  it  to  pieces,  into  shreds  and 
atoms,  until  it  crumbles  into  dust  and  cannot  be  put  to- 
gether any  more. 

Aniela  cannot  understand  that  a  principle  once  con- 
sidered good,  hallowed  by  religion,  as  well  as  by  public 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  261 

opinion,  could  be  considered  otherwise  than  as  a  sacred 
duty. 

It  does  not  matter  to  me  whether  she  is  conscious  of 
it,  or  it  is  instinctive  impulse  reasoned  out  by  her  intel- 
ligence, or  merely  acquired ;  it  is  enough  that  it  has  en- 
tered her  very  nature. 

I  had  a  glimpse  of  it  the  other  day  when  I  spoke  about 
Pani  Korytzka's  divorce  suit :  "  You  can  prove  every- 
thing, and  yet  when  one  does  wrong  conscience  tells  us : 
'  It  is  wrong,  it  is  wrong  ! '"  I  did  not  then  attach  the 
importance  to  these  words  that  belonged  to  them.  In 
Aniela  there  is  no  wavering,  no  doubt  whatever.  Her 
soul  winnows  the  chaff  from  the  grain  with  such  preci- 
sion that  there  can  be  no  question  about  its  purity.  She 
does  not  try  to  find  her  own  norma,  but  takes  it  ready- 
made  from  religion,  general  moral  principles,  and  clings 
to  them  so  strongly  that  they  become  her  very  own,  for 
they  permeate  her  system.  The  simpler  the  diiferential 
quality  of  good  and  evil,  the  more  absolute  and  merci- 
less it  grows.  In  this  ethical  code  there  are  no  extenuat- 
ing circumstances.  As  according  to  it  the  wife  belongs 
to  her  husband,  she  who  gives  herself  to  another  does 
wrong.  There  are  no  discussions,  no  considerations,  or 
reflections,  —  there  is  the  right  hand  for  the  righteous, 
the  left  for  the  sinners,  God's  mercy  above  all,  —  but  no- 
thing between,  no  intermediate  place. 

It  is  the  code  of  the  honest  villager,  so  simple  that 
people  like  me  do  not  understand  it.  It  seems  to  us  that 
human  life  and  human  souls  are  too  complex  to  find  room 
in  it.  Unfortunately  we  have  not  found  anything  to  re- 
place it,  and  consequently  we  flutter  here  and  there  like 
stray  birds,  in  loneliness  and  alarm. 

The  greater  part  of  our  women  still  hold  fast  to  that 
code.  Even  those  who  occasionally  stray  from  it  do  not 
permit  themselves  a  momentary  doubt  as  to  its  truth  and 
sacredness.     Where  it  begins,  reasoning  leaves  off. 

The  poets  erroneously  represent  woman  as  an  enigma, 
a  living  Sphinx.     Man  is  a  hundred  times  more  of  an 


262  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

enigma  and  a  Sphinx.  A  healthy  woman  that  is  not 
hysterical  may  be  either  good  or  bad,  strong  or  weak,  but 
she  has  more  spiritual  simplicity  than  man.  Forever 
and  all  times  the  Ten  Commandments  are  enough  for  her, 
whether  she  live  according  to  their  tenets,  or  through 
human  frailty  set  them  aside. 

The  female  soul  is  so  dogmatic  that  I  have  known  a 
woman  whose  very  atheism  took  the  form  of  religion. 

It  is  strange  that  this  code  of  the  honest  villager  does 
not  exclude  in  women  either  keen  intelligence,  a  subtle 
mind,  or  loftiness  of  ideas.  Their  soul  seems  to  have 
something  of  the  humming-bird  which  flits  in  and  out 
the  thickest  shrubs,  without  getting  entangled  in  their 
branches,  or  touching  a  single  leaf. 

This  may  be  said  especially  in  regard  to  Aniela.  The 
greatest  subtility  of  feeling  and  thought  goes  hand  in 
hand  with  the  utmost  simplicity  of  moral  ideas.  Her 
Ten  Commandments  are  the  same  as  the  village  girls', 
with  the  exception  that  those  of  the  latter  are  wrought 
on  coarse  linen,  and  hers  on  a  web  as  fine  as  lace.  Why 
do  I  discuss  this  question  ?  Simply  because  it  is  a  ques- 
tion of  my  happiness,  almost  my  life  ;  for  I  feel  that 
with  all  my  complex  and  intricate  philosophy  of  love,  I 
cannot  get  over  the  Ten  Commandments.  And  how  can 
I  conquer  them,  since  I  do  not  even  believe  in  that  phi- 
losophy, while  Aniela's  faith  in  her  principles  is  calm 
and  unshaken  ? 

Only  the  lips  that  have  been  drinking  at  the  fountain 
of  doubt  opine  that  a  forbidden  kiss  is  not  a  sin.  A  re- 
ligious woman  may  be  carried  away,  as  a  tree  is  swept 
away  by  a  hurricane,  by  forbidden  love,  but  she  will 
never  acknowledge  it. 

Shall  I  ever  be  able  to  carry  off  Aniela  ?  It  is  pos- 
sible that  my  present  state  of  despondency  and  discour- 
agement is  only  a  passing  one,  and  to-morrow  I  shall 
feel  more  hopeful,  —  to-day  all  seems  impossible. 

I  wrote  once  in  this  same  diary  that  in  certain  fami- 
lies they  inoculate  their  children  with  modesty  as  they 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  263 

inoculate  for  small-pox.  The  rule  which  says  the  wife 
shall  belong  to  the  husband,  and  in  which  Aniela  believes 
so  firmly,  is  strengthened  by  that  modesty,  so  knitted  into 
her  being,  so  worked  into  the  system,  that  I  could  sooner 
fancy  Aniela  cold  and  lifeless  than  baring  her  bosom  in 
my  presence. 

And  I  can  still  delude  myself  with  the  idea  that  I  may 
expect  anything  from  her  !     It  is  simple  idiocy  ! 

What  am  I  to  do  then  ?     Go  away  ? 

No;  I  shall  not  go  away.     I  will  not,  and  cannot. 

I  will  remain,  and  since  my  love  is  idiotic,  I  will  do  as 
idiots  do.  Enough  of  systems,  calculations,  forethought ! 
Let  things  take  their  own  way.  My  former  ways  did  not 
lead  to  anything. 


9  June. 

She  is  not  a  bit  happier  than  I  am.  What  I  saw  to- 
day confirmed  my  suspicion  that  she  is  fighting  a  heavy 
battle,  with  nothing  to  help  her  except  the  truth  of  her 
own  faith  and  convictions. 

After  the  departure  of  Pan  Zawilowski  and  his  daugh- 
ter, who  had  paid  us  a  visit,  my  aunt,  evidently  with  a 
certain  purpose,  began  to  enlarge  upon  the  good  qualities 
of  Panna  Zawilowska.  I  burst  out  into  a  sudden  rage  ; 
I  was  tired,  my  nerves  over-wrought  by  sleeplessness  and 
irritated  beyond  measure.  I  exclaimed  :  "  Have  your  way 
then  !  If  it  be  a  question  of  marriage  only,  and  not  of  hap- 
piness, I  will  propose  to-morrow  to  Panna  Zawilowska. 
She  or  somebody  else  ;  what  does  it  matter  ?  " 

Anybody  might  have  seen  it  was  merely  irritation,  not 
conviction,  that  dictated  words  I  should  never  have  acted 
upon.  But  Aniela  had  grown  very  white.  She  rose  and 
without  apparent  reason  began  to  unfasten  the  cords  of 
the  blind  with  trembling  hands.  Fortunately  my  aunt 
was  so  taken  aback  by  the  suddenness  of  my  outburst 
that  she  did  not  notice  her.  She  said  something,  I  did 
not  hear  what,  as  all  my  attention  was  concentrated  upoa 


264  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Aniela.  It  is  true  that  by  reasoning  I  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  something  must  be  going  on  in  her  heart, 
but  to  reason  out  a  thing  and  to  see  it,  are  two  different 
things.  As  long  as  I  live  I  shall  never  forget  that  white 
face  and  those  trembling  hands.  I  had  now  a  tangible 
proof,  which,  however  I  might  explain  it  by  the  sudden- 
ness of  my  announcement,  is  still  proof  enough.  Sudden 
news  either  of  the  death  or  marriage  of  anybody  that  is 
indifferent  to  us  does  not  pale  our  cheeks. 

I  thought  a  few  days  ago :  "  Of  what  use  is  it  to  me  that 
she  loves  me,  if  that  love  is  to  remain  forever  hidden  in 
her  breast  ?  "  and  yet  when  I  came  to  read,  as  I  did  now, 
the  confirmation  of  it,  my  hope  rose  at  once  and  all  doubts 
vanished.  Again  a  vision  of  possible  victory  flashed  be- 
fore my  eyes,  —  alas  !  to  be  dissolved  almost  at  once  into 
nothing.  My  aunt,  saying  something,  went  out  of  the 
room,  maybe  to  wipe  away  a  furtive  tear  at  my  hard- 
ness, and  I  went  up  to  Aniela. 

"  Aniela  dear !  I  would  not  marry  that  girl  for  any- 
thing in  the  world,  but  you  ought  to  enter  a  little  in  my 
position.  I  have  troubles  enough  to  bear,  and  even  here 
they  will  not  leave  me  in  peace.  You  know  best  that  I 
could  never  dream  of  such  a  step." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  should  be  glad  if  that  happened," 
she  said,  with  evident  effort. 

"  It  is  not  true  !  I  have  seen  you  changing  color,  —  I 
have  seen  it." 

"Permit  me  to  go  away." 

"  Aniela  mine  !  you  love  me  !  do  not  lie  to  me  and  to 
yourself ;  you  love  me  ! " 

She  grew  white  to  her  lips. 

"  No,"  she  replied  quickly ;  "  but  I  am  afraid  I  might 
learn  to  hate  you." 

And  with  that  she  left  the  room.  I  know  that  to  a 
woman  who  fights  with  herself,  a  bitter  and  forbidden 
love  often  seems  akin  to  hatred ;  and  yet  Aniela's 
words  staggered  me  and  extinguished  the  newborn  hope, 
as  one  blows  out  a  candle.     There  are  many  quite  natu- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  265 

rai  things  in  this  world  which  we  are  strong  enough 
to  bear  but  for  our  nerves.  I  am  struck  by  a  truth  not 
recognized  by  me  formerly,  not  recognized  generally,  — 
that  love  for  another  man's  wife,  if  only  a  pastime  is 
the  greatest  vileness,  and  if  real,  the  greatest  misfor- 
tune that  can  happen  to  any  man ;  the  more  worthy  the 
woman  the  greater  the  misfortune.  I  have  a  burning 
curiosity  within  me,  very  bitter  at  the  same  time,  as  to 
what  Aniela  would  do  if  I  said  to  her  :  "  Either  put  your 
arms  round  my  neck  and  own  that  you  love  me,  or  I 
will  blow  out  my  brains  here  before  your  eyes ! "  I 
know  it  would  be  the  meanest  thing  in  the  world,  and 
I  should  never  force  her  hand  in  that  way ;  no  !  what- 
ever I  may  be,  I  am  not  bad  enough  for  that !  But  I  can- 
not help  thinking,  "  What  would  she  do  ?  "  I  am  almost 
certain  she  would  not  survive  the  shock  and  the  scorn 
of  herself,  but  she  would  not  yield.  When  I  think  of 
this  I  curse  her  and  worship  her  at  the  same  time ;  I  hate 
her  and  love  her  more  than  ever.  The  worst  is  I  do  not 
see  how  I  shall  ever  get  out  of  this  enchanted  circle. 
Added  to  the  passion  of  the  senses  this  woman  wakes  in 
me,  I  have  for  her  a  dog-like  affection.  I  envelop  her 
with  my  eyes  and  thoughts,  can  never  satiate  myself 
with  the  sight  of  her,  and  at  the  same  time  she  is  the 
most  desirable  of  women,  and  the  very  crown  of  my  head. 
No  other  woman  ever  attached  me  to  her  so  absolutely 
and  in  that  twofold  manner. 

At  times  this  influence  of  hers  over  me  seems  well- 
nigh  incredible ;  then  again  I  explain  it,  and  as  usual 
take  the  worst  view  of  it.  I  have  lived  too  quickly, 
passed  already  the  zenith,  and  am  going  down  hill, 
where  it  is  dark  and  cold.  I  feel  that  in  her  I  could 
recover  my  lost  youth,  vitality,  and  the  desire  for  life. 
If  she  be  lost  to  me,  then  truly  nothing  remains  but  to 
vegetate,  and  gloominess  unutterable  as  the  foretaste  of 
decay.  Therefore  I  love  Aniela  with  the  instinct  of 
self-preservation,  —  not  with  my  senses  only,  not  with 
my  soul,  but  also  from  the  fear  of  annihilation. 


266  WITHOUT   DOGMA. 

Aniela  does  not  know  all  this  ;  but  I  suppose  she  pities 
me,  just  as  I  torture  her,  who  would  give  my  life  to  make 
her  happy.  And  therefore  I  say  again  that  the  love  for 
another  man's  wife  is  the  greatest  misfortune,  since  it 
leads  the  man  to  make  her  unhappy  whose  happiness 
he  would  ensure  at  the  cost  of  his  own.  The  result  of 
this  is  that  we  are  both  unhappy.  But  you,  Aniela,  have 
at  least  your  dogma  to  support  you,  whereas  I  am  verily 
like  a  boat  drifting  without  helm  and  oar. 

I  am  not  well  in  health  either.  I  sleep  very  badly,  or 
rather  scarcely  at  all.  I  should  like  to  fall  ill  and  lie 
unconscious  for  a  month  without  memories,  without 
trouble  —  and  rest.  It  would  be  a  kind  of  holiday. 
Chwastowski  examined  me  yesterday,  and  said  I  had 
the  nerves  of  a  decaying  race,  but  had  inherited  a  fair 
supply  of  muscular  strength.  I  believe  he  is  right ;  but 
for  that  I  should  have  succumbed  ere  this  to  my  nerves. 
Maybe  to  my  very  strength  I  may  ascribe  this  present 
concentration  of  feeling ;  it  had  to  find  an  outlet  some- 
where, and  as  it  did  not  find  it  either  in  science  or 
other  useful  work,  it  all  got  absorbed  into  love  for  a 
woman.  But  owing  to  my  nervous  system  it  is  turbid, 
stormy,  and  crooked,  —  above  all,  crooked. 

What  sensations  I  pass  through  every  day  !  Towards 
evening  the  dear  old  aunt  came  to  me  and  began  to  apolo- 
gize for  praising  Panna  Zawilowska  to  me.  I  kissed  both 
her  hands,  and  in  my  turn  asked  her  to  forgive  my  mo- 
mentary show  of  temper.     She  then  said,  — 

"  I  promise  never  to  mention  her  again.  It  is  true, 
my  dear  Leon,  I  wish  from  all  my  heart  to  see  you  mar- 
ried, for  yon  are  the  last  of  our  race ;  but  the  Lord  knows 
what  is  best.  But  believe  me,  dearest  boy,  it  is  not 
family  pride,  but  your  happiness  I  am  thinking  of." 

I  soothed  her  agitation  as  well  as  I  could,  and  then 
said :  — 

"You  must  not  mind  me,  dearest  aunt;  I  am  like  a 
woman,  —  a  nervous  woman  !  " 

"  You  a  woman  ?  "  she  said,  indignantly.     "  Every- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  267 

body  is  liable  to  make  mistakes.  I  only  wish  everybody 
had  as  much  intelligence  and  character  as  you ;  the  world 
would  then  be  quite  a  different  place !  " 

Ah,  me !  how  can  I  dispel  these  illusions  ?  Some- 
times I  grow  quite  desperate  as  I  say  to  myself :  "  What 
business  have  I  in  this  house,  among  these  women  who 
have  taken  a  monopoly  for  saintliness  ?  For  me  it  is 
too  late  to  convert  myself  to  their  faith  ;  but  how  many 
troubles,  disappointments,  misfortunes  may  I  not  bring 
upon  them  ?  " 


10  June. 

To-day  I  received  two  letters,  —  one  from  my  lawyer 
in  Eome,  the  other  from  Sniatynski.  The  lawyer  in- 
forms me  that  the  difficulties  the  Italian  government 
usually  raises  at  the  exportation  of  art  treasures  can  be 
got  over,  my  father's  collections  being  private  property 
and  as  such  not  under  government  control,  and  that  they 
could  be  transported  simply  as  furniture. 

I  shall  have  to  see  to  the  arrangement  of  the  house, 
which  I  do  unwillingly,  as  my  heart  is  not  any  more  in 
the  scheme.  What  does  it  matter  to  me  now,  and  what 
is  the  use  of  it  ?  If  I  do  not  give  it  up  altogether,  it  is 
only  because  I  spread  the  news  about  it  myself,  and  can- 
not possibly  draw  back.  I  have  fallen  back  into  that 
state  of  mind  which  possessed  me  during  my  wanderings 
after  Aniela's  marriage.  Again  I  understand  nothing, 
cannot  act  or  look  upon  anything  that  has  no  direct 
bearing  upon  Aniela.  The  thoughts  in  which  I  do  not 
see  her  image  at  the  bottom  are  meaningless  to  me.  It 
is  a  proof  how  far  a  man  may  sink  his  own  self.  I  read 
this  morning  a  lecture  by  Bunge  called  "  Vitality  and 
Mechanism,"  and  I  perused  it  with  exceptional  interest. 
He  demonstrates  scientifically  that  which  has  been  in 
my  mind  more  as  a  dim,  shapeless  idea  than  a  definite 
conviction.  Here  science  confesses  scepticism  in  regard 
to  itself,  and,  moreover,  not  only  confirms  its  own  impo- 


268  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

tence,  but  clearly  points  to  the  existence  of  another 
world  which  is  something  more  than  matter  and  motion, 
which  cannot  be  explained  either  physically  or  chemi- 
cally. It  does  not  concern  me  in  the  least  whether  that 
world  be  above  matter  or  subject  to  it.  It  is  a  mere 
play  of  words  !  I  am  not  a  scientist ;  I  am  not  bound  to 
be  careful  in  my  deductions ;  therefore  I  throw  myself 
headforemost  into  that  open  door,  and  let  science  prate 
and  say  a  hundred  times  over  that  all  is  dark  there.  I 
feel  it  will  be  lighter  than  here.  I  read  with  almost 
feverish  eagerness  and  great  relief.  Only  fools  do  not 
acknowledge  how  materialism  wearies  and  oppresses  us, 
what  secret  fear  lurks  in  the  mind  lest  their  science 
should  prove  true,  what  a  dreary  waiting  for  new  scien- 
tific evolutions,  and  joy  of  the  prisoners  when  they  see 
a  small  door  ajar  through  which  they  may  escape  into  the 
open  air.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  the  spirit  is  already  so 
oppressed  that  it  dares  not  breathe  freely  or  believe  in 
its  own  happiness.  But  I  dared,  and  had  a  sensation  as 
if  I  had  escaped  from  a  stifling  cellar. 

Perhaps  this  is  onl}'-  a  momentary  relief,  for  I  under- 
stand well  that  Neo-Vitalism  does  not  form  an  epoch 
in  science ;  maybe  to-morrow  I  shall  go  back  to  prison, 
—  I  do  not  know.  In  the  meantime  the  breath  of  air 
did  me  good.  I  said  to  myself  over  and  over  again : 
"  If  it  be  possible  that  by  way  of  scepticism  one  can  ar- 
rive at  the  undoubted  certainty  of  another  world,  mock- 
ing at  mechanical  explanation,  being  absolutely  beyond 
all  physico-chemical  elucidation,  then  everything  is  pos- 
sible, —  every  creed,  every  dogma,  every  mysticism  !  It  is 
permissible  then  to  think  that,  as  there  is  infinite  Space, 
there  is  also  infinite  Keason,  infinite  Good,  enfolding 
the  whole  universe  as  in  a  vast  cloak,  under  which  we 
may  find  rest  and  shelter  and  protection.  And  if  so,  all 
is  well !  I  shall  know  at  least  why  I  live  and  why  I 
suffer.     What  an  immense  relief  ! " 

I  repeat  once  more  that  I  am  not  obliged  to  be  timid 
and  wary  in  my  deductions,  and,  as  I  said  before,  no  one 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  269 

is  so  near  mysticism  as  the  sceptic.  I  realized  it  once 
more  in  myself  when  I  began  spreading  my  wings,  like 
the  bird  wliich  has  been  caged  and  delights  in  its  new 
freedom.  I  saw  before  me  endless  space  covered  with 
new  life.  I  did  not  know  whether  it  was  on  another 
planet  or  farther  still,  beyond  the  planetary  sphere,  — 
enough  that  the  space  was  different  from  ours,  the  light 
brighter  and  softer,  the  air  cool  and  full  of  sweetness ; 
the  difference  consisted  mainly  in  the  closer  union  of  the 
individual  spirit  with  the  spirit  of  the  universe ;  it  was 
so  close  that  it  was  ditiicult  to  understand  where  the  in- 
dividual ceased  and  the  universe  began.  I  felt  at  the 
same  time  it  was  upon  that  very  dimness  of  the  boundary 
that  the  happiness  of  this  other  life  rested,  as  the  being 
did  not  live  in  opposition  or  exclusion  but  in  harmony 
with  his  surroundings,  and  thus  lived  with  the  whole 
power  of  universal  life. 

I  do  not  say  it  was  a  vision  ;  it  was  only  a  crossing  of 
the  narrow  boundary  beyond  which  reasoning  leaves  off 
and  conscious  feeling  begins,  —  a  feeling  which  as  yet  is 
only  a  conclusion  of  former  premises,  but  carried  so  far 
as  to  be  difhcult  to  grasp,  as  a  golden  thread  spun  out  to 
its  utmost  length.  Moreover,  I  did  not  know  how  to  in- 
corporate myself  with  that  new  life  and  new  space,  — how 
to  melt  in  it  my  own  self.  I  had  kept  to  a  certain  extent 
my  own  individuality,  and  there  was  something  want- 
ing near  me,  —  something  I  searched  for.  Suddenly  I 
became  aware  it  was  Aniela  I  was  searching  for.  Of 
course,  only  her  and  always  her.  What  could  another 
life  matter  to  me  without  her  ?  1  found  her  at  last,  and 
we  roamed  about  together  like  the  shadow  of  Paolo  with 
the  shadow  of  Francesca  di  Rimini.  I  write  this  down 
because  I  see  in  it  an  almost  terrifying  proof  how  far 
my  whole  being  has  been  absorbed  by  this  love. 

What  connection  is  there  between  Bunge's  Neo- Vital- 
ism and  Aniela  ?  Nevertheless,  even  when  thinking 
of  things  far  removed,  it  all  brings  me  back  to  her.  Sci- 
ence, art,  nature,  life,  —  all  are  carried  back  to  the  sanv 


270  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

denominator.  It  is  the  axis  around  which  turns  my 
world. 

This  is  of  great  importance  to  me,  for,  in  presence  of 
all  this,  is  it  possible  that  I  should  ever  listen  to  the  ad- 
vice of  reason  and  that  inward  monitor  that  bids  me  to 
go  away  ? 

I  know  it  all  will  end  in  ruin.  But  how  can  I  go 
away  ;  how  summon  strength  and  will  and  energy  when 
all  these  have  been  taken  from  me  ?  Tell  a  man  de- 
prived of  his  legs  to  go  and  walk  about.  On  what  ?  And 
from  myself  I  add  :  "  Why  ?  whereto  ?   My  life  is  here." 

Sometimes  I  feel  tempted  to  let  Aniela  read  this  diary, 
but  do  not  intend  to  do  so.  Her  pity  for  me  might  be 
increased,  but  not  her  love.  If  Aniela  be  ever  mine,  she 
will  want  to  look  up  to  me  for  support,  peace,  and  im- 
movable faith  for  both;  that  is  how  it  ought  to  be 
where  happiness  is  at  stake.  Here  she  would  find  noth- 
ing but  doubts.  Supposing  even  she  could  understand  all 
that  has  been  and  is  going  on  in  my  mind,  there  are 
many  things  she  could  not  sympathize  with.  We  are 
too  different  from  each  other.  For  instance,  when  I 
plunge  into  mysticism,  when  I  say  to  myself  that  every- 
thing is  possible,  even  a  future  life,  I  do  not  shape  it 
according  to  generally  admitted  ideas,  and  if  those  gen- 
eral ideas  may  be  called  a  normal  point  of  view,  mine 
must  needs  be  an  abnormal  one.  Why  ?  If  everything 
is  possible,  then  why  not  a  hell,  a  purgatorj^,  a  heaven, 
or  my  subplanetary  spaces,  —  and  Dante's  vision,  which 
is  far  greater  and  more  magnificent  than  mine  ?  Then 
why  ?  For  a  twofold  reason.  First,  because  my  scepti- 
cism, which  poisons  itself  by  its  own  doubts,  as  the 
scorpion  poisons  itself  with  its  own  venom,  is  never- 
theless strong  enough  to  exclude  the  most  simple  and 
generally  accepted  ideas  ;  secondly,  I  cannot  fancy  my- 
self in  the  Dantean  divisions  with  Aniela,  —  I  do  not 
desire  such  a  life. 

It  is  only  part  of  myself  that  writes  and  thinks,  the 
greater  part  is  always  with  Aniela.     At  this  moment  I 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  ^71 

see  a  streak  of  light  from  her  window  resting  on  the 
barberry  bushes.  My  poor  love  has  sleepless  nights  too. 
I  saw  her  dozing  over  her  needle-work  to-day.  Seated 
in  a  deep  armchair  she  looked  to  me  so  small,  and  she 
drew  such  a  long  breath  as  if  from  weariness.  I  had  a 
feeling  for  her  as  if  she  were  my  child. 


11  June. 

They  have  sent  me  at  last  the  Madonna  by  Sassofer- 
rato.  I  handed  it  to  Aniela  in  presence  of  the  elder 
ladies,  as  a  thing  left  to  her  in  my  father's  will,  and  so  she 
could  not  refuse  it.  Afterwards  I  hung  it  up  myself  in 
her  little  sitting-room,  and  it  looks  very  pretty  there.  I 
am  not  fond  of  Madonnas  by  Sassoferrato,  but  this  one 
is  so  simple  and  so  serene  in  its  clear  shades.  I  like  to 
think  that  as  often  as  she  looks  at  it  she  will  remember 
that  it  was  I  who  gave  her  that  relic,  gave  it  her  because 
I  love  her.  In  this  way  the  love  she  considers  sinful 
must  in  her  thought  be  united  to  holy  things.  It  is  a 
childish  comfort,  but  he  who  has  no  other  must  be  satis- 
fied even  with  that. 

I  had  another  crumb  of  comfort  to-day.  When  the 
picture  had  been  hung  in  its  place,  Aniela  came  to  thank 
me.  As  the  armchair  in  which  Pani  Celina  sits  was  at 
the  other  end  of  the  room,  I  held  for  a  moment  the 
hand  Aniela  was  about  to  withdraw,  and  asked  in  a  low 
voice  :  — 

"  Is  it  true,  Aniela,  that  you  hate  me  ?  " 

She  only  shook  her  little  head,  as  if  in  sadness. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  she  replied  quickly. 

This  one  word  expressed  so  much.  It  was  a  way  of 
saying  that  if  the  feeling  of  the  loved  woman  were  al- 
ways to  remain  hidden  in  her  breast,  it  would  be  the 
same  as  not  to  be  loved  at  all.  Xo  !  it  is  not  the  same. 
Let  me  have  it,  if  only  that.  I  would  not  give  it  up  for 
anything  in  the  world.  If  this  were  taken  from  me,  I 
should  have  nothing  to  live  for  any  more. 


272  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

12  June. 

I  am  at  Warsaw  in  consequence  of  the  letter  from 
Sniatynski,  received  tlie  day  before  yesterday,  in  which 
he  asked  me  to  Ijake  part  in  a  farewell  dinner  in  honor 
of  Clara  Hilst.  I  did  not  go  to  the  dinner,  which  took 
place  yesterday,  but  said  good-by  to  Clara  at  the  station. 
I  have  just  returned  thence.  The  good  soul  was  going 
away,  most  likely  disappointed,  and  with  some  resent- 
ment against  me  in  her  heart,  but  upon  seeing  me,  for- 
gave me  everything,  and  we  parted  the  best  of  friends. 
I  felt  too  that  I  should  miss  her,  and  that  the  loneliness 
around  me  would  be  greater  still.  On  my  mystic  fields 
there  will  be  no  farewells.  This  one  was  truly  sad,  —  in 
addition  to  it  the  sky  was  overcast,  and  there  was  a 
drizzling  rain  that  looked  as  if  it  would  last  for  days. 
In  spite  of  that  a  great  many  people  had  come  to  see  the 
last  of  the  celebrated  artist.  Her  sleeping-car  was  filled 
with  bouquets  and  wreaths  like  a  hearse ;  she  will  have 
to  discard  them  unless  she  lets  herself  be  suffocated. 
Clara,  at  the  moment  of  departure,  without  taking  into 
account  what  people  might  think  or  say,  devoted  herself 
to  me  as  much  as  the  bustle  of  the  place  would  permit. 
I  went  into  her  carriage,  and  we  conversed  together  like 
two  old  friends,  not  paying  any  attention  to  the  old  and 
always  silent  relative,  or  to  the  other  people,  who  at  last 
retired  discreetly  into  the  corridor.  I  held  both  Clara's 
hands,  and  she  looked  at  me  with  those  honest  blue  eyes 
of  hers,  and  said  in  a  moved  voice  :  — 

"  It  is  only  to  you  I  say  it  openly,  that  I  never  was  so 
sorry  to  go  away  from  anywhere  as  from  here.  There  is 
no  time  to  say  much,  with  all  these  people  around  us,  but 
believe  me,  I  am  sorry  to  go.  At  Frankfurt  I  meet  many 
people,  great  artists,  scientists ;  only  there  is  a  differ- 
ence, —  you  are  like  one  of  the  more  delicate  instruments. 
As  regards  yourself,  I  will  not  say  anything." 

"  You  will  let  me  write  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  write  too.  I  wanted  to  ask  you  that.  I  have 
my  music,  but  it  is  not  always  sufficient  now.      I  think 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  273 

you  too  will  want  to  hear  from  me  now  and  then; 
though  you  may  have  many  friends,  you  have  none  more 
sincere  and  devoted  than  I.  I  am  very  foolish ;  any- 
thing upsets  me,  and  it  is  time  to  go." 

"  We  are  both  wanderers  on  the  earth,  you  as  an  artist, 
I  as  a  Bohemian ;  therefore  it  will  not  be  farewell,  but 
au  revoir." 

"Yes,  au  revoir,  and  that  speedily.  You  too  are  an 
artist.  You  may  not  play  or  paint,  but  you  are  an  artist 
all  the  same.  I  saw  it  the  first  moment  I  met  you,  — 
and  also  that  you  may  seem  happy,  but  are  very  sad  at 
heart.  Kemember  there  is  a  German  girl  who  will  be 
always  as  a  sister  to  you." 

I  raised  her  hand  to  my  lip,  and  she,  thinking  I  was 
going,  said  quickly  :  — 

"  There  is  still  time,  they  have  only  rung  the  second 
bell ! " 

But  I  really  wished  to  leave.  Oh,  those  wretched 
nerves  of  mine  !  Clara's  companion  wore  a  stiff  mackin- 
tosh which  rustled  at  her  every  motion ;  and  that  rustle, 
or  rather  swish  of  the  india-rubber,  set  my  very  teeth  on  _ 
edge.  Besides,  we  had  only  a  few  minutes  left.  I 
stepped  aside  to  make  place  for  Pani  Sniatynska,  who 
came  rushing  up. 

"  Hilst,  Frankfurt,"  Clara  called  out  after  me ;  "  at 
home  they  will  forward  my  letters  wherever  I  go  !  " 

Presently  I  found  myself  on  the  platform  under  the 
window  of  her  carriage,  among  all  those  who  had  come 
to  see  her  off.  Their  farewells  and  good-bys  mingled 
with  the  labored  breathing  of  the  locomotive  and  the 
shouts  of  the  railway  men.  The  window  of  the  carriage 
was  lowered,  and  I  saw  the  friendly,  honest  face  once 
more. 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  spend  the  summer  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  will  write  to  you,"  I  replied. 

The  panting  of  the  locomotive  grew  quick,  then  came 
the  last  shrill  whistle,  and  the  train  began  to  move.    We 

18 


274  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

gave  Clara  a  loud  cheer,  she  waved  her  hands  to  us,  and 
then  disappeared  in  the  distance  and  the  dusk. 

"  You  will  feel  very  lonely,"  said  suddenly  close  to  me 
Pani  Sniatynska's  voice. 

"  Yes,  very,"  I  said,  and  lifting  my  hat  to  her,  I  went 
home.  And  truly  I  had  the  feeling  as  if  somebody  had 
left,  who  in  case  of  need  would  have  given  me  a  helping 
hand.  I  felt  very  despondent.  Possibly  the  gloomy  even- 
ing, the  mist  and  drizzling  rain,  in  the  midst  of  which 
the  street  lamps  looked  like  miniature  rainbow  arches, 
had  something  to  do  with  it.  The  last  spark  of  hope 
seemed  to  have  died  out.  There  was  darkness  not  only 
within  me,  but  it  seemed  to  encompass  the  whole  world, 
and  weigh  upon  it  as  the  atmosphere  weighs  upon  us  and 
permeates  all  nature. 

I  carried  home  with  me  a  heaviness  of  feeling  and 
great  restlessness  and  a  fear  as  if  something  unknown 
was  threatening  me.  There  woke  up  within  me  a  sudden 
longing  for  the  sun  and  brighter  skies,  for  countries 
where  there  is  no  mist,  no  rain,  and  no  darkness.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  if  I  went  where  there  was  sun  and 
brightness,  it  would  shield  me  from  some  unknown 
danger. 

Oh,  to  go  away !  The  entire  capacity  of  my  thoughts 
was  filled  with  that  eager  desire.  Then  suddenly  an- 
other fear  clutched  at  my  heart :  if  I  went  away,  Aniela 
would  be  exposed  to  that  same  impalpable  danger  from 
which  I  wanted  to  fly.  I  knew  it  was  only  a  delusion 
of  my  brain,  and  that  really  my  departure  would  be 
the  best  thing  for  her.  Yet  I  could  not  get  rid  of  the 
sensation  that  to  desert  her  would  be  cowardice  and 
meanness.  All  my  reasoning  cannot  get  over  this.  Be- 
sides, the  going  away  is  only  an  empty  word ;  I  may  say 
it  to  myself  a  hundred  times,  but  if  1  were  to  try  to 
change  it  into  fact  I  should  find  it  altogether  beyond 
my  power.  I  have  put  so  much  of  my  life  in  that  one 
feeling  that  it  would  be  easier  to  cut  me  into  pieces 
than  to  part  me  from  it. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  275 

I  possess  so  much  control  over  ray  thoughts,  such  a 
consciousness  of  self  that  it  seems  to  me  impossible  that 
I  could  ever  lose  my  reason.  I  cannot  even  imagine  it ; 
but  at  moments  I  feel  as  if  my  nerves  could  not  bear  the 
strain  any  longer. 

I  am  sorry  Clara  is  gone.  I  have  seen  but  little  of  her 
lately  ;  but  I  liked  to  know  that  she  was  not  far  off ;  now 
Aniela  will  absorb  me  altogether,  because  I  give  to  her 
that  power  which  rules  our  likings,  and  makes  us  con- 
scious of  friendship. 

When  I  returned  home,  I  found  there  young  Chwas- 
towski,  who  had  come  to  town  in  order  to  consult  with 
his  brother,  the  bookseller.  They  have  some  scheme  in 
hand  about  selling  elementary  books.  They  are  always 
scheming  something,  always  busy,  and  that  fills  their 
life.  I  have  come  to  such  a  pass  that  I  rejoiced  to  see 
him  as  a  child  that  is  afraid  of  ghosts  is  glad  to  see 
somebody  coming  into  the  room.  His  spiritual  healthi- 
ness seems  to  brace  me.  He  said  that  Pani  Celina  was 
so  much  better  that  within  a  week  she  would  be  able  to 
bear  the  journey  to  Gastein.  Oh  yes !  yes  !  Anything 
for  a  change !  I  shall  push  that  plan  with  all  my 
powers.  I  will  persuade  my  aunt  to  go  too.  She  will 
do  it  for  my  sake,  and  in  that  case  nobody  will  be  aston- 
ished at  my  going.  There  is  at  least  something  I  desire, 
and  desire  very  much.  I  shall  have  so  many  chances  of 
taking  care  of  Aniela,  and  shall  be  nearer  to  her  than  at 
Ploszow.  I  feel  somewhat  relieved  ;  but  it  has  been  a 
terrible  day,  and  nothing  oppresses  me  so  much  as  dark, 
rainy  weather.  I  still  hear  the  drops  falling  from  the 
waterspouts  ;  but  there  is  a  rift  in  the  clouds,  and  a  few 
stars  are  visible. 


12  June. 

Kromitzki  arrived  to-day. 


276  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


Gastein,  23  June. 

We  arrived  at  Gastein  a  week  ago,  —  the  whole  family  : 
Aniela,  my  aunt.  Pani  Celina,  Kromitzki,  and  myself.  I 
interrupted  my  diary  for  some  time,  not  because  I  had 
lost  the  zest  for  it,  nor  because  I  did  not  feel  the  neces- 
sity for  writing,  but  simply  because  I  was  in  a  state  of 
mind  which  words  cannot  express.  As  long  as  a  man 
tries  to  resist  his  fate,  and  wages  war  against  the  forces 
that  crush  him,  he  has  neither  brains  nor  time  for  any- 
thing else.  I  was  like  the  prisoner  in  Sansson's  memoirs, 
who  when  they  tore  his  flesh  and  poured  molten  lead  into 
the  wounds  shouted  in  nervous  ecstasy,  "  Encore !  en- 
core ! "  until  he  fainted.  I  have  fainted  too,  which  means 
that  I  am  exhausted  and  resigned. 

A  great  hand  seems  to  weigh  upon  me,  as  immense  as 
the  mountains  that  loom  up  before  me.  What  can  I  do 
against  it  ?  Nothing  but  submit  and  remain  passive 
while  it  crushes  me.  I  did  not  know  that  one  could  find, 
if  not  comfort,  at  least  some  kind  of  peace  in  this  con- 
sciousness of  impotence  and  the  looking  straight  at  one's 
misery. 

If  only  I  could  keep  from  struggling  against  it,  and 
not  disturb  this  state  of  quiescence.  I  could  write  then 
about  things  that  happen  to  me  as  if  they  had  happened 
to  somebody  else.  But  I  know  from  experience  that  one 
day  does  not  resemble  another,  and  I  am  afraid  of  what 
the  morrow  will  bring  forth. 


24  June. 
Towards  the  end  of  my  sojourn  at  Warsaw  I  put  down 
these  words :  "  Love  for  another  man's  wife,  if  only  a 
pastime,  is  a  great  villany,  and  if  real,  is  one  of  the 
greatest  misfortunes  that  can  happen  to  a  man."  Writ- 
ing this  before  Kromitzki's  arrival,  I  had  not  taken  into 
account  all  the  items  which  make  up  the  sum  of  this 
misfortune.     I  also  thought  it  nobler  than  it  really  is. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  277 

Now  I  begin  to  see  that  besides  great  suffering,  it  in- 
cludes a  quantity  of  small  humiliations,  the  conscious- 
ness of  villany,  ridicule,  the  necessity  of  falsehood,  the 
doing  of  mean  things,  and  the  need  of  precautions  un- 
worthy of  a  man.  What  a  bouquet !  Truly  the  scent 
of  it  is  enough  to  overpower  any  man. 

God  knows  with  what  delight  I  would  take  such  a 
Kromitzki  by  the  throat,  press  him  to  the  wall,  and  tell 
him  straight  in  his  face,  "  I  love  your  wife ! "  Instead 
of  that  I  must  be  careful  lest  the  thought  should  enter 
his  mind  that  she  pleases  me.  What  a  noble  part  to 
play  in  her  presence  !  What  must  she  think  of  me  ? 
That  too  is  one  of  the  flowers  in  the  bouquet. 

As  long  as  I  live  I  shall  not  forget  the  day  of  Kromitz- 
ki's  arrival.  He  had  gone  straight  to  my  house.  Coming 
home  late  at  night,  I  found  somebody's  luggage  in  the 
anteroom.  I  do  not  know  why  it  did  not  occur  to  me 
that  it  might  be  Kromitzki's.  Suddenly  he  himself 
looked  out  from  the  adjacent  room,  and  dropping  his  eye- 
glass rushed  up  with  open  arms  to  salute  his  new  rela- 
tive. I  saw  as  in  a  dream  that  dry  skull,  so  like  a 
death's-head,  the  glittering  eyes,  and  the  crop  of  black 
hair.  Kromitzki's  arrival  was  the  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world,  and  yet  I  felt  as  if  I  had  looked  into  the  face 
of  death.  It  seemed  to  me  like  a  nightmare,  and  the 
words,  ''  How  do  you  do,  Leon  ?  "  the  most  fantastic  and 
most  improbable  words  I  could  have  heard  anywhere. 
Presently  such  a  rage,  such  a  loathing  combined  with 
fear,  seized  me  that  it  took  all  my  self-control  to  prevent 
me  from  throwing  him  down  and  dashing  out  his  brains. 
I  have  sometimes  felt  such  paroxysms  of  rage  and  loath- 
ing, but  never  combined  with  fear ;  it  was  not  so  much 
fear  of  a  living  man  as  horror  of  the  dead.  For  some 
time  I  could  not  find  a  word  to  say.  Fortunately  he 
might  suppose  I  had  not  recognized  him  at  first,  or  was 
astonished  that  a  man  I  scarcely  knew  should  treat  me 
so  familiarly.     It  still  irritates  me  when  I  think  of  it. 

I  tried  to  recover  myself ;  he  in  the  mean  while  read- 


278  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

justed  his  eyeglass,  and  shaking  my  hand  once  more, 
said :  — 

"  Well,  and  how  are  you  ?  How  are  Aniela  and  her 
mother  ?  Old  lady  always  ill,  I  suppose.  And  our  aunt, 
how  is  she  ?  " 

I  was  seized  with  amazement  and  anger  that  this  man 
should  mention  those  nearest  and  dearest  to  me  as  if 
they  belonged  to  him.  A  man  of  the  world  bears  most 
things  and  hides  his  emotions,  because  he  is  trained  from 
his  earliest  years  to  keep  himself  under  control ;  never- 
theless I  felt  that  I  could  not  bear  it  any  longer,  and  in 
order  to  pull  myself  together  and  occupy  my  thoughts 
with  something  else,  I  called  for  the  servant  and  told 
him  to  get  tea  ready. 

Kromitzki  appeared  uneasy  that  I  did  not  reply  at 
once  to  his  questions ;  the  eyeglass  dropped  again,  and 
he  said,  hurriedly  :  — 

"  There  is  nothing  wrong,  is  there  ?  Why  don't  you 
speak  ?  " 

"  They  are  all  well,"  I  replied. 

It  suddenly  struck  me  that  my  emotion  might  give  the 
hateful  man  an  advantage  over  me,  and  the  thought  re- 
stored all  my  self-possession  at  once.  I  led  him  into  the 
dining-room,  asked  him  to  sit  down,  and  then  said  :  — 

"  How  is  it  going  with  you  ?  Have  you  come  to  make 
a  long  stay  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  replied.  "  I  was  longing  for 
Aniela  ;  and  I  fancy  she  too  must  have  been  anxious  to 
have  me  back  again.  We  have  only  been  a  few  months 
together,  and  for  a  newly  married  couple  that  is  not 
much,  is  it  ?  "  and  he  burst  out  into  one  of  his  wooden 
laughs.  "Besides,"  he  added,  "I  have  some  business 
here  to  look  after.     Always  business,  you  see." 

Then  he  began  a  long-winded  harangue  about  his 
affairs ;  of  which  I  did  not  hear  much,  except  the  often 
repeated  words  "  combined  forces,"  observing  meanwhile 
the  motion  of  the  eyeglass.  It  is  a  strange  thing  how  in 
presence  of  some  great  calamity  small  things  will  thrust 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  279 

themselves  into  evidence.  I  do  not  know  whether  this 
be  so  with  everybody,  but  in  the  present  instance  the  re- 
iterated words  "  combined  forces  "  and  the  shifting  of  the 
eyeglass  irritated  me  beyond  endurance.  In  the  earlier 
moments  of  the  interview  I  was  almost  unconscious,  and 
yet  I  could  count  how  often  that  eyeglass  dropped  and 
was  put  up  again.  It  always  used  to  be  thus  with  me, 
and  it  was  so  now. 

After  tea  I  conducted  Kromitzki  to  the  room  he  was  to 
occupy  for  the  night.  He  did  not  cease  talking,  but 
went  on  in  the  same  strain  while  with  the  help  of  the 
servant  he  unpacked  his  portmanteau.  Sometimes  he 
interrupted  his  flow  of  words  in  order  to  show  me 
some  specimens  brought  from  the  East.  He  undid  his 
travelling  straps,  unfolded  two  small  Eastern  rugs, 
and  said :  — 

**  I  bought  these  at  Batoum.  Pretty  things,  are  they 
not  ?     They  will  do  to  put  before  our  bed." 

He  got  tired  at  last,  and  after  the  servant  had  gone  he 
sat  down  in  the  armchair,  and  still  continued  to  talk 
about  his  affairs,  while  I  thought  of  something  else. 
When  we  are  not  able  to  defend  ourselves  from  a  great 
misfortune,  there  is  one  safety-valve,  —  we  may  be  able 
to  grapple  with  some  of  its  details.  I  was  now  mainly 
busy  with  the  thought  whether  Kromitzki  would  go  with 
us  to  Gastein  or  not.  Therefore  after  some  time  I 
remarked :  — 

"  I  did  not  know  you  formerly ;  but  I  begin  to  think 
that  you  are  the  kind  of  man  to  make  your  fortune. 
You  are  not  in  the  least  flighty,  and  would  never  sacri- 
fice important  affairs   for  mere   sentimentality." 

He  pressed  my  hand  warmly.  "  You  have  no  idea," 
he  said,  "  how  much  I  wish  you  to  trust  me." 

At  the  moment  I  did  not  attach  any  special  meaning 
to  his  words.  I  was  too  much  occupied  with  my  own 
thoughts,  and  especially  with  the  reflection  that  in  regard 
to  Kromitzki  I  had  already  been  guilty  of  a  lie  and  a 
meanness,  —  a  lie,  because  I  did  not  believe  in  his  busi* 


280  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

ness  capacities  at  all ;  a  meanness,  because  T  flattered  the 
man  I  should  have  liked  to  kill  with  a  glance.  But  I 
was  only  anxious  to  induce  him  not  to  go  to  Gastein ; 
therefore  I  went  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  quagmire. 

"  I  see  this  journey  does  not  suit  you  in  the  least," 
I  said. 

Tliereupon,  egoist  that  he  is,  feeling  things  only  in  so 
far  as  they  concern  himself,  he  began  to  grumble  at  his 
mother-in-law. 

"  Of  course  it  does  not  suit  me,"  he  said ;  "  and  between 
ourselves  I  do  not  see  the  necessity  of  it.  There  is  a  limit 
to  everything,  even  to  a  daughter's  affection  for  her 
mother.  Once  married,  a  woman  ought  to  understand 
that  her  first  duty  is  toward  her  husband.  Besides,  a 
mother-in-law  who  is  always  there,  either  in  the  same 
room  or  in  the  next,  is  a  nuisance,  and  prevents  a  young 
married  couple  from  drawing  near  to  each  other,  and  living 
exclusively  for  themselves.  I  do  not  say  but  that  love 
for  one's  parents  is  a  good  thing,  if  not  carried  too  far 
and  made  an  impediment  in  one's  life." 

Once  embarked  upon  that  theme  he  gave  expression  to 
very  commonplace  and  mean  sentiments,  which  irritated 
me  all  the  more  that  from  his  point  of  view  there  was 
certainly  some  truth  in  what  he  said. 

"  There  is  no  help  for  it,"  he  concluded  ;  "  I  made  a 
bargain,  and  must  stick  to  it." 

"  Then  you  mean  to  go  with  them  to  Gastein  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  have  some  personal  interest  in  the  journey. 
I  want  to  enter  into  closer  relation  with  my  wife's  family 
and  gain  your  confidence.  We  will  speak  of  that  later 
on.  I  am  free  for  a  month  or  six  weeks.  I  left  Lucian 
Chwastbwski  in  charge  of  the  business,  and  he  is,  as  the 
English  say,  a  'solid'  man.  Besides,  when  one  has  a 
wife  like  Aniela  one  wants  to  stop  with  her  a  little  while, 
—  you  understand,  eh  ?  " 

Saying  this  he  laughed,  showing  his  yellow,  decayed 
teeth,  and  clapped  me  on  the  knee.  A  cold  shiver  pene- 
trated to  my  very  brain.     I  felt   myself  growing  pale. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  281 

I  rose  and  turned  away  from  the  light  to  hide  my  face, 
then  made  a  powerful  effort  to  collect  myself  and  asked  -• 
"  When  do  you  intend  going  to  Ploszow  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,  to-morrow." 

"  Good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  he  replied,  his  eyeglass  dropping  once 
more.  He  put  out  both  hands,  adding :  "  I  am  tremen- 
dously glad  to  have  the  opportunity  to  get  more  ac- 
quainted with  you.  I  always  liked  you,  and  I  am  sure 
we  shall  understand  each  other." 

We  understand  each  other  !  How  intensely  stupid  the 
man  is !  But  the  more  stupid  he  is,  the  more  horrible  to 
me  is  the  thought  that  Aniela  belongs  to  him,  is  simply 
a  thing  of  his  !  I  did  not  even  try  to  undress  that  night. 
I  never  had  seen  so  clearly  that  there  may  be  situations 
where  words  come  to  an  end,  the  power  of  reasoning 
ceases,  even  the  power  of  feeling  one's  calamity,  —  to 
which  there  seems  to  be  no  limit.  A  truly  magnificent 
life  which  is  given  unto  us !  It  is  enough  to  say  that 
those  former  occasions  when  Aniela  trampled  upon  my 
feelings,  and  when  I  thought  I  had  reached  the  height  of 
misery,  appear  now  to  me  as  times  of  great  happiness. 
If  then,  if  even  now,  the  Evil  One  promised  me  in  ex- 
change for  my  soul  that  everything  should  remain  as  it 
was,  Aniela  forever  to  reject  my  love,  but  Kromitzki  not 
to  come  near  her,  —  I  would  sign  the  agreement  without 
hesitation.  Because  in  the  man  rejected  by  a  woman 
there  grows  involuntarily  a  conviction  that  she  is  like  a 
Gothic  tower  far  out  of  his  reach,  to  which  he  scarcely 
dares  to  lift  his  eyes.  Thus  I  always  thought  of  Aniela. 
And  then  comes  a  Pan  Kromitzki,  with  two  rugs  from 
Batoum,  and  drags  her  from  the  height,  that  inexorable 
priestess,  down  to  a  level  with  those  rugs.  What  a 
terrible  thing  it  is,  that  imagination  can  bring  it  all  so 
clear  before  us !  And  how  repulsively  mean  he  is,  and 
how  ridiculous  withal ! 

Where  are  all  ray  theories,  my  reasonings,  that  love  is 
far  above  matrimonial  bonds,  —  that  I  have  a  right  to  love 


282  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

Aniela  ?  I  still  have  my  theories,  while  Kroniitzki  has 
Aniela.  As  the  wind  is  tempered  to  the  shorn  lamb  I 
thought  the  human  being  capable  of  carrying  only  a  cer- 
tain weight,  and  that  if  more  were  put  upon  his  back  he 
must  needs  break  down.  In  my  misery  without  bounds, 
and  in  my  equally  great  foolishness  and  degradation,  I 
felt  that  from  the  time  of  Kromitzki's  arrival  I  was  be- 
ginning to  despise  Aniela.  Why  ?  I  could  not  justify 
it  upon  any  common  grounds.  "  One  wife,  one  husband." 
This  law  I  know  by  heart,  like  any  other  fool ;  but  in  re- 
lation to  my  own  feelings  it  is  a  degradation  for  Aniela. 
What  does  it  matter  that  it  does  not  stand  to  reason  ?  I 
know  that  I  despise  her,  and  it  is  more  than  I  can  bear. 
I  felt  that  existence  under  these  conditions  would  become 
simply  impossible,  and  that  necessarily  there  must  be 
some  change  and  the  past  be  buried.  What  change  ? 
If  my  scorn  could  throttle  my  love,  as  a  wolf  throttles  a 
lamb,  it  would  be  well.  But  I  had  a  foreboding  that 
something  else  would  take  place.  If  I  did  not  love  Aniela 
I  could  not  despise  her  now  ;  therefore  my  scorn  is  only 
another  link  in  the  chain.  I  understand  perfectly  that 
beyond  Pani  Kromitzka,  beyond  Pan  Kromitzki  and  their 
relation  to  each  other,  nothing  interests  me,  —  nothing 
whatever ;  neither  light  nor  darkness,  war  nor  peace,  nor 
any  other  thing.  She,  Aniela,  or  rather  both  she  and  her 
husband,  and  my  part  in  their  life,  are  my  reason  for  ex- 
istence. If  for  this  same  reason  I  cannot  bear  my  ex- 
istence any  longer,  what  will  happen  then  ?  Suddenly 
it  came  upon  me,  as  a  surprise,  that  I  had  not  thought  of 
the  most  simple  solution  of  the  problem,  — death. 

What  a  tremendous  power  there  is  in  human  hands,  — 
the  power  of  cutting  the  thread.  Now  I  am  ready.  Evil 
genius  of  my  life,  do  thy  worst ;  pile  weight  upon  weight, 
—  but  only  up  to  a  certain  time,  as  long  as  I  consent. 
If  I  find  it  too  much  I  throw  off  the  burden!  "E 
poi  eterna  silenza,"  Nirvana,  the  "fourth  dimension  "of 
Zollner  —  what  do  I  know?  The  thought  that  it  all 
depended  upon  me  gave  me  an  immense  relief. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  283 

I  remained  thus  an  hour,  stretched  out  on  the  couch, 
thinking  how  and  when  I  would  do  it ;  and  that  very  ab- 
straction of  my  thoughts  from  Kromitzki  seemed  to  calm 
me.  Such  a  thing  as  tlie  taking  of  one's  life  wants  some 
preparation,  and  this  also  forced  my  thoughts  nito  another 
groove.  I  remembered  at  once  that  my  travelling  revol- 
ver was  of  too  small  a  calibre.  I  got  up  to  look  at  it  and 
resolved  to  buy  a  new  one.  I  began  to  calculate  ways 
and  means  to  make  it  appear  an  accident.  All  this  of 
course  as  a  mere  theory.  Nothing  was  settled  into  a 
fixed  purpose.  I  might  call  it  rather  a  contemplating 
the  possibility  of  suicide  than  a  purpose.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  was  now  certain  it  would  not  come  to  that  soon. 
Now  that  I  knew  the  door  by  which  I  could  escape  I 
thought  I  might  wait  a  little  to  see  how  far  my  evils 
would  extend,  and  what  new  tortures  fate  had  in  store  for 
me.  I  was  consumed  by  a  burning  and  painful  curiosity 
as  to  what  would  happen  next,  how  those  two  would 
meet,  and  how  Aniela  would  face  me  ?  I  became  very 
tired,  and  dressed  as  I  was  I  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep, 
full  of  Kromitzkis,  eyeglasses,  revolvers,  and  all  sorts 
of  confused  combinations  of  things  and  people. 

I  woke  up  late.  The  servant  told  me  that  Pan  Kro- 
mitzki had  gone  to  Ploszow.  My  first  impulse  was  to 
follow  and  see  them  together.  But  when  seated  in  the 
carriage  I  suddenly  felt  I  could  not  bear  it,  that  it  would 
be  too  great  a  trial,  and  might  hasten  my  escape  through 
the  open  door  into  the  unknown ;  and  I  gave  orders  to 
drive  somewhere  else. 

The  greatest  pessimist  instinctively  avoids  pain,  and 
fights  against  it  with  all  his  might.  He  clutches  at  every 
hope  and  expects  relief  through  every  change.  Tliere 
awoke  within  me  such  a  desire  to  make  them  go  to  Gas- 
tein  as  if  my  very  life  depended  upon  it.  To  make  them 
leave  Ploszow  !  The  thought  did  not  give  me  rest,  and 
took  such  possession  of  me  that  I  gave  my  whole  mind 
to  its  realization.  This  did  not  present  great  difficulties. 
The  ladies  were  almost  ready  to  start.     Kromitzki  had 


284  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

come  unexpectedly,  evidently  intending  to  give  his  wife 
a  surprise.  A  few  days  later  he  would  not  have  found 
us  at  Ploszow.  I  went  to  the  railway  office  and  secured 
places  in  a  sleeping-car  for  Vienna ;  then  sent  a  mes- 
senger with  a  letter  to  my  aunt  telling  her  I  had  bought 
tickets  for  the  following  day,  as  all  the  carriages  were 
engaged  for  the  following  week,  and  we  should  have  to 
go  to-morrow. 


26  June. 

I  still  linger  over  the  last  moments  spent  at  Warsaw. 
These  memories  impressed  themselves  so  strongly  on  my 
mind  that  I  cannot  pass  them  over  in  silence.  The  day 
following  Kromitzki's  arrival  I  had  a  strange  sensation. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  I  did  not  love  Aniela  any  longer, 
and  yet  could  not  live  without  her.  It  was  the  first  time 
I  felt  this  —  I  might  call  it  psychical  dualism.  Formerly 
my  love  went  through  its  regular  course.  I  said  to  my- 
self, "  I  love  her,  therefore  I  desire  her,"  —  with  the  same 
logic  as  Descartes  employs  in  the  statement,  "I  think, 
therefore  I  exist."  Now  the  formula  is  changed  into, 
"  I  do  not  love  her,  but  desire  her  still ; "  and  both  ele- 
ments exist  in  me  as  if  they  were  engraved  on  two 
separate  stones.  For  some  time  I  did  not  realize  that 
the  "  I  do  not  love  her  "  was  merely  a  delusion.  I  love 
her  as  before,  but  in  such  a  sorrowing  manner,  with  so 
much  bitterness  and  venom,  that  the  love  has  nothing  in 
common  with  happiness. 

Sometimes  I  fancy  that  even  if  Aniela  were  to  confess 
to  me  her  love,  if  she  were  divorced  or  a  widow,  I  should 
not  be  happy  any  more.  I  would  buy  such  an  hour  at 
the  price  of  my  life,  but  truly  I  do  not  know  whether  I 
should  be  able  to  convert  it  into  real  happiness.  Who 
knows  whether  the  nerves  that  feel  happiness  be  not 
paralyzed  in  me  ?  Such  a  thing  might  happen.  Really, 
what  is  life  worth  under  such  conditions  ? 


WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


285 


The  day  before  our  departure,  I  went  to  a  gunsmith's 
shop.  It  was  a  quaint  old  man  who  sold  me  the  revolver. 
If  he  were  not  a  gunsmith  he  might  become  a  professor 
of  psychology.  I  told  him  I  wanted  a  revolver,  no  matter 
whose  make,  Colt's  or  Smith's,  provided  it  were  good  and 
of  a  large  calibre.  The  old  man  picked  out  the  weapon, 
which  I  accepted  at  once. 

"  You  will  want  cartridges,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  going  to  ask  you  for  them." 

"  And  a  case,  sir  ?  "  he  said,  looking  at  me  keenly. 

"  Of  course,  a  case." 

"That's  all  right,  sir;  then  I  will  give  you  cartridges 
of  the  same  number  as  the  revolver." 

It  was  now  my  turn  to  look  attentively  at  him.  He 
understood  the  inquiring  look,  and  said  :  — 

"  I  have  been  in  the  trade  over  forty  years,  sir,  and 
learned  something  about  my  customers.  It  often  hap- 
pens that  people  buy  revolvers  to  blow  out  their  brains. 
Would  you  believe  it  never  happens  that  such  a  one  buys 
a  case  ?  It  is  always  this  way  :  '  Please  give  me  a  re- 
volver.' '  With  the  case  ?  '  '  No,  never  mind  the  case.' 
It  is  a  strange  thing  that  a  man  about  to  throw  away  his 
life  should  grudge  a  rouble  for  the  case.  But  such  is 
human  nature.  Everybody  says  to  himself,  '  What  the 
devil  do  I  want  with  a  case  ? '  And  that  's  how  I  always 
find  out  whether  a  man  means  mischief  or  not." 

"  That  is  very  curious  indeed,"  I  replied ;  and  it  seemed 
to  me  a  very  characteristic  sign. 

The  gunsmith,  with  a  slight  twinkle  in  his  eye,  went 
on:  "Therefore  as  soon  as  I  perceive  his  drift  I  make  a 
point  of  giving  him  cartridges  a  size  too  large.  It  is  not 
a  small  thing,  the  taking  away  one's  life ;  it  requires  a 
deal  of  courage  and  determination.  I  fancy  many  a  man 
breaks  into  a  cold  perspiration  as  he  finally  says  :  '  Now 
for  the  revolver !  Ah,  the  cartridges  do  not  fit ;  the  gun- 
smith made  a  mistake ; '  and  he  has  to  put  it  off  until 
the  following  day.  And  do  you  think,  sir,  it  is  an  easy 
thing  to  do  it  twice  over  ?     Many  a  man  who  has  faced 


286  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

death  once  cannot  do  it  again.  There  were  some  who 
came  the  next  day  to  buy  a  case.  I  laughed  in  my  sleeve 
and  said :  ^  There  's  your  case,  and  may  it  last  you  a  long 
time.'" 

I  note  down  this  conversation  because  everything  re- 
lating to  suicide  has  become  of  interest  to  me,  and  the 
old  gunsmith's  words  appeared  to  contain  a  bit  of  philos- 
ophy worth  preserving. 


27  June. 
Now  and  then  I  remind  myself  that  Aniela  loved  me, 
that  I  could  have  married  her,  that  my  life  might  have 
been  made  bright  and  happy,  that  it  merely  depended 
upon  me,  and  that  I  wasted  all  that  through  my  incapa- 
city for  action.  Then  I  put  to  myself  the  question :  "  Is 
there  any  sign  of  insanity  in  me,  and  is  it  indeed  true 
that  I  could  have  had  Aniela  forever  ?  "  It  must  be 
true,  for  how  could  I  otherwise  recall  all  the  incidents 
from  the  time  I  met  her  first  up  to  the  present  moment  ? 
And  to  think  that  she  might  have  been  mine,  and  as 
faithful  and  loyal  to  me  as  she  is  to  that  other  one!  — 
a  hundred  times  more  faithful,  because  she  would  love  me 
from  her  whole  soul.  Innate  incapacity? — yes,  that  is 
it.  But  even  if  it  justifies  me  in  my  own  eyes,  what 
matters  it  to  me,  since  it  does  not  give  me  any  comfort  ? 
The  only  thought  that  gives  me  comfort  is  that  the  de- 
scendants of  decayed  as  well  as  of  the  most  buoyant  races 
have  to  go  the  same  way,  —  to  dust  and  ashes.  This 
makes  the  difference  between  the  weak  and  the  strong  a 
great  deal  less.  The  whole  misfortune  of  beings  like  me 
is  their  isolation.  What  erroneous  ideas  have  our  novel- 
ists, and  for  the  matter  of  that  even  our  physiologists, 
about  the  decaying  races.  They  fancy  that  inward  in- 
capacity must  invariably  correspond  with  physical  deteri- 
oration, small  build,  weak  muscles,  anaemic  brain,  and 
weak  intelligence.     This  may  be  the  case  now  and  then, 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  287 

but  to  regard  it  as  a  general  principle  is  a  mistake  and 
a  pedantic  repetition  of  the  same  thing  over  and  over 
again.  The  descendants  of  worn-out  races  have  no  lack 
of  vital  powers,  but  they  lack  harmony  among  these 
powers.  I  myself  am  physically  a  powerful  man,  and 
never  was  a  fool.  I  knew  people  of  my  sphere  built  like 
Greek  statues,  clever,  gifted,  and  yet  they  did  not  know 
how  to  fit  themselves  into  life,  and  ended  badly,  exactly 
through  that  want  of  even  balance  in  their  otherwise  lux- 
uriant vital  powers.  They  exist  among  us  as  in  a  badly 
organized  society  where  nobody  knows  where  the  rights 
of  the  one  begin  and  those  of  another  cease.  We  live  in 
anarchy,  .and  it  is  a  known  fact  that  in  anarchy  society 
cannot  exist.  Each  of  the  powers  drags  its  own  way, 
often  pulling  all  the  others  with  it ;  and  this  produces  a 
tragic  exclusiveness.  I  am  now  suffering  from  this  ex- 
clusiveness,  by  reason  of  which  nothing  interests  me 
beyond  Aniela,  nothing  matters  to  me,  and  there  is  noth- 
ing else  to  which  I  can  attach  my  life.  But  people  do 
not  understand  that  such  a  want  of  even  balance,  such 
anarchy  of  the  vital  powers,  is  a  far  greater  disease  than 
physical  or  moral  ansemia.  This  is  the  solution  of  the 
problem. 

Formerly  the  conditions  of  life  and  a  differently  con- 
stituted community  summoned  us,  and  in  a  way  forced 
us,  into  action,  Now,  in  these  antihygienic  times,  when 
we  have  nothing  to  do  with  public  life,  and  are  poisoned 
by  philosophy  and  doubts,  our  disease  has  grown  more 
acute.  We  have  come  to  this  at  last,  that  we  are  not 
capable  of  sustained  action,  that  our  vitality  shows  itself 
only  in  sudden  leaps  and  bounds,  and  consequently  the 
most  gifted  among  us  always  end  in  some  kind  of  mad- 
ness. Of  all  that  constitutes  life  there  is  only  woman 
left  for  us ;  and  we  either  fritter  and  squander  ourselves 
away  in  licentiousness  or  cling  to  one  love  as  to  a  branch 
that  overhangs  a  precipice.  As  it  is  mostly  an  unlawful 
love  we  cling  to,  it  carries  within  itself  the  elements  of  a 
tragedy.    I  know  that  my  love  for  Aniela  must  end  badly ; 


288  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

and  therefore  I  do  not  even  try  to  defend  myself  from  K 
Besides,  whether  I  resist  or  submit,  it  means  ruin  either 
way. 


28  Jun*. 

The  baths  and  especially  the  cool,  bracing  air  are  improv- 
ing Pani  Celina's  health,  and  she  is  growing  stronger  day 
by  day.  I  surround  her  with  every  care  and  think  of  her 
comforts  as  if  she  were  my  own  mother.  She  is  grateful 
for  it,  and  seems  to  be  growing  very  fond  of  me.  Aniela 
notices  it,  and  cannot  help  feeling  a  certain  regret  at  this 
vision  of  happiness  that  might  have  been  ours  if  things 
had  turned  out  differently.  I  am  quite  certain  now  that 
she  does  not  love  Kromitzki.  She  is  and  will  be  faithful 
to  him ;  but  when  I  see  them  together  I  notice  in  her  face 
a  certain  constraint  and  humiliation.  I  see  it  every  time 
when  he,  whether  really  in  love  or  only  showing  himself 
off  as  a  doting  husband,  fondles  her  hands,  smoothes  her 
hair  or  kisses  her  brow-  She  would  rather  hide  herself 
in  the  very  earth  than  be  forced  to  submit  to  these  en- 
dearments in  my  and  other  people's  presence.  Never- 
theless she  submits,  with  a  forced  smile.  I  smile  too, 
but  as  a  diversion  I  mentally  plunge  my  hands  into  my 
vitals  and  tear  them  to  pieces.  At  times  the  thought 
crosses  my  mind  that  this  priestess  of  Diana  is  more  at 
ease  and  less  reticent  when  alone  with  her  husband.  But 
I  do  not  often  indulge  in  thoughts  like  these,  for  I  feel 
that  one  drop  more  and  I  shall  lose  my  self-control 
altogether. 

My  relation  to  Aniela  is  terrible  for  me  as  well  as  for 
her.  My  love  shows  itself  in  the  guise  of  hatred,  scorn, 
and  irony.  It  frightens  Aniela  and  hurts  her.  She  looks 
at  me  now  and  then,  and  her  pleading  eyes  say,  "Is  it  my 
fault  ?  "  And  I  repeat  to  myself,  "  It  is  not  her  fault ; " 
but  I  cannot,  God  help  me,  I  cannot  be  different  to  her. 
The  more  I  see  her  oppressed  and  hurt,  the  fiercer  becomes 
my  resentment  towards  her,  towards  Kromitzki,  myself, 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  280 

and  the  whole  world.  A.nd  yet  I  pity  her  from  my  whole 
heart,  for  she  is  as  unhappy  as  I  am.  But  as  water,  in- 
stead of  subduing  a  conflagration,  makes  it  rage  all  the 
fiercer,  so  my  feelings  are  rendered  fiercer  by  despair. 
I  treat  the  dearest  being  with  scorn,  anger,  and  irony, 
and  thereby  hurt  myself  far  more  than  I  hurt  her ;  for 
she  is  capalale  of  forgiveness,  but  I  shall  never  be  able  to 
forgive  myself. 


29  June. 

That  man  notices  there  is  some  ill-feeling  between  me 
and  his  wife,  and  he  explains  it  in  a  manner  worthy  of 
him.  It  seems  to  him  that  I  hate  her  because  she  pre- 
ferred him  to  me.  He  fancies  that  my  resentment  is 
nothing  but  offended  vanity.  Truly  only  a  husband  can 
look  upon  it  in  this  light.  Consequently  he  tries  to  make 
it  up  to  her  by  his  caresses,  and  treats  me  with  the  kind 
indulgence  of  a  generous  victor. 

How  vanity  blinds  some  people !  What  a  strange 
creature  he  is !  He  goes  every  day  to  the  Straubinger 
hotel,  watches  the  couples  promenading  on  the  Wandel- 
bahn,  and  with  a  certain  delight  puts  the  worst  con- 
struction upon  their  mutual  relations.  He  laughs  at  the 
husbands  who,  according  to  his  views,  are  deceived  by 
their  wives ;  every  new  discovery  puts  him  into  better 
Immor,  and  his  eyeglass  is  continually  dropping  out 
and  put  back  again.  And  yet  the  same  man  who  con- 
siders conjugal  faithlessness  such  an  excellent  opportu- 
nity for  making  silly  jokes,  would  consider  it  the  most 
awful  tragedy  if  it  happened  to  himself.  Since  it  is  only 
a  question  of  other  people  it  is  a  farce ;  touching  his  own 
happiness  it  would  cry  out  to  heaven  for  vengeance.  Why, 
you  fool !  —  go  to  the  looking  glass,  see  yourself  as  you 
are,  your  Mongolian  eyes,  that  hair  like  a  black  Astra- 
chan  cap,  that  eyeglass,  those  long  shanks;  enter  into 
yourself  and  see  the  meanness  of  your  intellect,  the  vul- 
garity of  your  character, —  and  tell  me  whether  a  woman 

19 


290  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

like  Aniela  ought  to  remain  true  to  you  for  an  hour ! 
How  did  you  manage  to  get  her,  you  spiritual  and  phys- 
ical upstart  ?  Is  it  not  an  unnatural  monstrosity  that 
you  are  her  husband  ?  Dante's  Beatrice,  marrying  a  com- 
mon Florentine  cad,  would  have  been  better  matched. 

I  had  to  interrupt  my  writing  because  I  felt  I  was  los- 
ing my  balance ;  and  yet  I  fancied  myself  resigned !  May 
Kromitzki  rest  easy ;  I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  any  better 
than  he.  Even  if  I  supposed  I  was  made  of  finer  stuff 
than  he,  it  would  be  small  comfort,  since  my  deeds  are 
worse  than  his.  He  has  no  need  of  hiding  anything,  and 
I  am  obliged  to  play  the  hypocrite,  take  him  always  into 
account,  conceal  my  real  feelings,  deceive  and  circumvent 
him.  Can  there  be  anything  meaner  than  pursuing  such 
a  course  of  action,  instead  of  taking  him  by  the  throat  ? 
I  abuse  him  in  my  diary.  Such  underhand  satisfaction 
even  a  slave  may  permit  himself  towards  his  master. 
Kromitzki  never  could  have  felt  so  small  as  I  did  in  my 
own  eyes  when  I  committed  a  multitude  of  littlenesses, 
devised  cunning  plans  to  make  him  take  separate  lodg- 
ings and  not  stop  in  the  same  house  with  Aniela.  And 
after  all,  I  gained  nothing.  With  the  simple  sentence, 
"I  wish  to  be  near  my  wife"  he  demolished  all  my 
plans.  It  is  simply  unbearable,  especially  as  Aniela 
understands  every  movement  of  mine,  every  word  and 
scheme.  I  fancy  she  must  often  blush  for  me.  All  this 
taken  together  makes  up  my  daily  food.  I  do  not  think 
I  shall  be  able  to  bear  it  much  longer,  as  I  cannot  be 
equal  to  the  situation,  —  which  simply  means:  I  am  not 
villain  enough  for  the  conditions  in  which  I  live. 


30  June. 

I  overheard  from  the  veranda  the  end  of  a  conversation 
carried  on  in  an  audible  voice  between  Kromitzki  and 
Aniela. 

"  I  will  speak  to  him  myself,"  said  Kromitzki ;  "  but 
you  must  tell  j^our  aunt  the  position  I  am  in." 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  291 

"  I  will  never  do  it,"  replied  Aniela. 

"  Not  if  such  is  my  wish  ?  "  he  said  sharply. 

Not  desirous  of  playing  the  part  of  eavesdropper,  I 
went  into  the  room.  I  saw  on  Aniela's  face  an  expres- 
sion of  pain,  which  she  tried  to  hide  upon  seeing  me. 
Kromitzki  was  white  with  anger,  but  greeted  me  with  a 
smile.  For  a  moment  an  unreasonable  fear  got  hold  of 
me  that  she  had  confessed  something  to  her  husband.  I 
am  not  afraid  of  Kromitzki ;  my  only  fear  is  that  he  may 
take  away  Aniela  and  thus  part  me  from  my  sorrows,  my 
humiliations,  and  torments.  I  live  by  them  ;  without 
them  I  should  be  famished.  Anything  rather  than  part 
from  Aniela.  In  vain  I  racked  my  brain  to  guess  what 
could  have  taken  place  between  them.  At  moments  I 
thought  it  probable  that  she  had  told  him  something ; 
but  then  his  manner  towards  me  would  have  changed, 
and  it  was  if  anything  even  more  polite  than  usual. 

Generally  speaking,  but  for  my  aversion  to  the  man,  I 
have  no  fault  to  find  with  him  in  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned. He  is  very  polite  and  friendly,  gives  way  to  me 
in  everything  as  if  he  were  dealing  with  a  nervous  woman. 
He  tries  all  means  to  gain  my  confidence.  It  does  not 
discourage  him  in  the  least  that  I  meet  his  advances  at 
times  brusquely  or  sarcastically,  and  without  much  con- 
sideration for  his  feelings  show  up  his  ignorance  and 
want  of  refined  nerves.  I  do  not  miss  any  opportunity 
to  expose  before  Aniela  how  commonplace  he  is  in  heart 
and  intellect.  But  he  is  wonderfully  patient.  Maybe 
he  is  so  only  with  me.  To-day  I  saw  him  for  the  first 
time  angry  with  Aniela,  and  his  complexion  was  of  the 
greenish  hue  of  people  who  are  angry  in  cold  blood  and 
nurse  their  wrath  long  afterwards.  Aniela  is  probably 
afraid  of  him,  but  she  is  afraid  of  everybody,  —  even  of 
me.  It  is  sometimes  difficult  to  understand  how  this 
woman  with  the  temper  of  a  dove  can  at  a  given  moment 
summon  so  much  energy.  There  was  a  time  when  I 
thought  her  too  passive  to  be  able  to  resist  me  long. 
What    a    disappointment !      Her   resistance    is   all   the 


292  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

stronger,  the  more  unexpected  it  is.  I  do  not  know 
what  was  the  question  between  her  and  Kromitzki,  but 
if  she  says  that  she  is  not  going  to  do  what  he  asks  her, 
she  will  shake  with  fear  but  will  not  yield.  If  she  were 
mine,  I  would  love  her  as  the  dog  loves  its  mistress ;  I 
would  carry  her  on  my  hands,  and  not  allow  the  dust  to 
touch  her  feet ;  I  would  love  her  until  death. 


1  July. 
My  jealousy  would  be  a  miserable  thing  if  it  were  not 
at  the  same  time  the  pain  of  the  true  believer  who  sees  his 
divinity  dragged  in  the  dust.  I  would  abstain  even  from 
touching  her  hand  if  I  could  place  her  on  some  inap- 
proachable height  where  nobody  could  come  near  her. 


2  July. 

I  deluded  myself  as  to  my  state  of  quiescence.  It  was 
only  a  temporary  torpidity  of  the  nerves,  which  I  mistook 
for  calmness.     Besides,  I  knew  it  could  not  last. 

3  July. 

Yes,  something  has  passed  between  them.  They  hide 
some  mutual  offence,  but  I  see  it.  For  some  days  I  have 
noticed  that  he  does  not  take  her  hands,  as  he  used  to 
and  kiss  them  in  turn ;  he  does  not  stroke  her  hair  or 
kiss  her  forehead.  I  had  a  moment  of  real  joy,  but 
Aniela  herself  poisoned  it.  I  see  that  she  tries  to  con- 
ciliate and  humor  him  as  if  wishing  to  restore  their 
former  relations.  At  the  sight  of  this  a  great  rage  pos- 
sessed me,  and  showed  itself  in  my  behavior  to  Aniela. 
Never  had  I  been  so  pitiless  to  her  and  myself. 

4  July. 
To-day,  returning  from  the  "Wandelbahn,  I  met  Aniela 

on  the  bridge  opposite  the  Cascades.     She  stopped  sud- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  293 

denly  and  said  something,  but  the  roar  of  the  water 
drowned  her  voice.  This  irritated  me,  for  at  present 
everything  irritates  me.  Whereupon,  leading  her  across 
the  bridge  towards  our  villa,  I  said  impatiently :  •'  I  could 
not  hear  what  you  were  saying." 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you,"  she  said,  with  emotion,  "  why 
you  are  so  different  to  me  now  ?  Why  have  you  no  pity 
upon  me  ?  " 

All  my  blood  rushed  to  my  heart  at  these  words. 

"  Can  you  not  see,"  I  said  quickly,  "  that  I  love  you 
more  than  words  can  tell  ?  and  you  treat  it  as  if  it  were 
a  mere  nothing.  Listen  !  I  do  not  want  anything  from 
you.  Only  tell  me  that  you  love  me,  surrender  your 
heart  to  me,  and  I  will  bear  anything,  suffer  anything, 
and  will  give  my  whole  life  to  you  and  serve  you  to  the 
last  breath.  Aniela,  you  love  me !  Tell  me,  is  it  not 
true  ?     You  will  save  me  by  that  one  word  ;  say  it !  " 

Aniela  had  grown  as  pale  as  the  foam  on  the  cascade. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  had  turned  to  ice.  For  a  moment 
she  could  not  utter  a  word  ;  then  making  a  great  effort, 
she  replied :  — 

"  You  must  not  speak  to  me  in  that  way." 

"  Then  you  will  never  say  it  ?  " 

"  Never ! " 

"  Then  you  have  not  the  least  —  "  I  broke  off.  It 
suddenly  whirled  across  my  brain  that  if  Kromitzki  asked 
her,  she  would  not  refuse  him ;  and  at  this  thought  rage 
and  despair  deprived  me  of  all  consciousness.  I  heard  the 
rushing  of  waters  in  my  ear,  and  everything  grew  dark 
before  my  eyes.  I  only  remember  that  I  hurled  a  few 
horrible,  cynical  words  at  her,  such  as  no  man  should 
use  against  a  defenceless  woman,  and  which  I  dare  not 
put  down  in  this  diary.  I  remember  as  in  a  dream  that 
she  looked  at  me  with  dilated  eyes,  took  me  by  the  sleeve, 
then  shook  my  shoulder,  and  said,  anxiously  :  — 

"  Leon,  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  —  what  ails 
you  ?  " 

What  ailed  me  was  that  I  was  losing  my  senses.     I 


294  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

tore  my  hand  away  and  rushed  off  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. After  a  moment  I  retraced  my  steps ;  but  she  was 
gone.  Then  I  understood  only  one  thing  :  the  time  had 
come  to  put  an  end  to  life.  The  thought  seemed  to  me 
like  a  rift  in  the  dark  clouds  that  weighed  upon  me.  It 
was  a  strange  state  of  consciousness,  in  one  direction. 
For  the  moment  all  thoughts  about  myself,  about  Aniela, 
were  wiped  from  my  memory ;  but  I  contemplated  the 
thought  of  death  with  the  greatest  self-possession.  I 
knew,  for  instance,  perfectly  well  that  if  I  threw  myself 
from  the  rocks  it  would  be  considered  an  accident,  and  if 
I  shot  myself  in  my  own  room  my  aunt  would  not  sur- 
vive the  shock.  It  was  still  stranger  that,  in  spite  of 
this  consciousness,  I  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  make 
any  choice,  as  if  the  connection  between  my  reasoning 
and  my  will  and  its  consequent  action  had  been  severed. 
With  a  perfectly  clear  understanding  that  it  would  be 
better  to  throw  myself  from  the  rocks,  I  yet  went  back 
to  the  villa  for  my  revolver.  Why  ?  I  cannot  explain 
it.  I  only  remember  that  I  ran  faster  and  faster,  at  last 
went  up  the  stairs  into  my  room,  and  began  to  search  for 
the  key  of  my  portmanteau,  where  the  revolver  was. 
Presently  I  heard  steps  approaching  my  door.  This 
roused  me,  and  the  thought  flashed  through  my  mind 
that  it  was  Aniela,  that  she  had  guessed  my  intention, 
and  came  to  prevent  it.  The  door  was  flung  open,  and 
there  was  my  aunt,  who  called  out  in  a  breathless 
voice  :  — 

"  Leon,  go  quick  for  the  doctor  !  Aniela  has  been 
taken  ill." 

Hearing  that,  I  forgot  all  else,  and  without  hat  I 
rushed  forth,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  brought  a  doc- 
tor from  the  Straubinger  hotel.  The  doctor  went  to  see 
Aniela,  and  I  remained  with  my  aunt  on  the  veranda.  I 
asked  her  what  had  happened  to  Aniela. 

"  Half  an  hour  ago,"  said  my  aunt,  "  Aniela  came  back 
with  such  a  feverishly  burning  face  that  both  Celina  and 
I  asked  whether  anything  had  happened  to  her.     She  re- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  295 

plied,  '  Nothing,  nothing,'  almost  impatiently  ;  and  when 
Celina  insisted  upon  knowing  what  was  the  matter  with 
her,  Aniela,  for  the  first  time  since  I  have  known  her, 
lost  her  temper  and  cried  out,  '  Why  are  you  all  bent 
upon  tormenting  me  ?  '  Then  she  became  quite  hysteri- 
cal, and  laughed  and  cried.  We  were  terribly  frightened, 
and  then  I  came  and  asked  you  to  fetch  the  doctor. 
Thank  God,  she  is  calmer  now.  How  she  wept,  poor 
child,  and  asked  us  to  forgive  her  for  having  spoken  un- 
kindly to  us." 

I  remained  silent ;   my  heart  was  too  full  for  words. 

My  aunt  paced  up  and  down  the  veranda,  and  presently, 
her  arms  akimbo,  stopped  before  me  and  said,  — 

*'  Do  you  know,  my  boy,  what  I  am  thinking  ?  It  is 
this :  We  somehow  do  not  like  Kromitzki,  —  even  Celina 
is  not  fond  of  him ;  and  Aniela  sees  it,  and  it  hurts  her 
feelings.  It  is  a  strange  thing  ;  he  does  his  best  to  make 
himself  pleasant,  and  yet  he  always  seems  like  an  out- 
sider.    It  is  not  right,  and  it  grieves  Aniela," 

"  Do  you  think,  aunty,  that  she  loves  him  so  very 
much  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  very  much.  He  is  her  husband,  and  so 
she  loves  him,  and  feels  hurt  that  we  treat  him  badly." 

"  But  who  treats  him  badly  ?  I  think  she  is  not  happy 
with  him,  —  that  is  all." 

"  God  forbid  that  you  should  be  right.  I  do  not  say 
but  she  might  have  done  better ;  but  after  all  there  is 
nothing  to  be  said  against  him.  He  evidently  loves  her 
very  much.  Celina  cannot  quite  forgive  him  the  sale  of 
Gluchow ;  but  as  to  Aniela,  she  defends  him,  and  does 
not  allow  anybody  to  say  a  word  against  him." 

"  Perhaps  against  her  own  conviction  ?  " 

"  It  proves  all  the  more  that  she  loves  him.  As  to  his 
affairs,  the  worst  is  that  nobody  knows  how  he  stands ; 
and  this  is  a  great  source  of  trouble  to  Celina.  But  after 
all,  wealth  is  not  everything ;  besides,  as  I  told  you  be- 
fore, I  will  not  forget  to  provide  for  Aniela,  and  you 
agree  with  me,  do  you  not  ?    We  both  owe  her  a  kind 


296  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

of  duty,  not  to  mention  that  she  is  a  dear,  affectionate 
creature,  and  deserves  everything  we  can  do  for  her." 

"  With  all  my  heart,  dear  aunt ;  she  will  be  always  as 
a  sister  to  me,  and  shall  not  be  in  want  of  anything  as 
long  as  I  live." 

"  I  count  upon  my  dear  boy,  and  can  die  in  peace." 

Thereupon  she  embraced  me.  The  doctor,  coming 
towards  us,  interrupted  our  conversation.  In  a  few 
words  he  set  our  minds  at  rest,  — 

"  A  little  nervous  agitation  ;  it  often  appears  after  the 
first  baths.  Leave  off  bathing  for  a  few  days,  plenty  of 
air  and  exercise,  —  that  is  all  that  is  wanted.  The  con- 
stitution is  sound  ;  strengthen  the  system,  and  all  will  be 
well." 

I  paid  him  so  liberally  that  he  bowed,  and  did  not  put 
on  his  hat  till  he  was  beyond  the  railings  of  the  villa.  I 
would  have  given  anything  if  I  could  have  gone  imme- 
diately to  Aniela,  kissed  her  feet,  and  begged  her  for- 
giveness for  all  the  wrong  I  had  done  her.  I  vowed  to 
myself  that  I  would  be  different,  more  patient,  with 
Kromitzki,  —  not  revolt  any  more,  nor  grumble.  Con- 
trition, contrition  deep  and  sincere,  permeated  my  whole 
being.     How  unspeakably  I  love  her ! 

Close  upon  noon  I  met  Kromitzki  coming  back  from 
a  long  walk  on  the  Kaiserweg.  I  put  my  good  resolu- 
tions at  once  to  the  test,  and  was  more  friendly  with  him. 
He  thought  it  was  sympathy  because  of  his  wife's  illness, 
and  as  such  accepted  it  in  a  grateful  spirit.  He  and  Pani 
Celina  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day  with  Aniela.  She 
had  expressed  a  wish  to  dress  and  go  out ;  but  they  did 
not  let  her.  I  did  not  permit  myself  even  to  chafe  at 
that.  I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  subdued  myself  to 
the  same  extent.  "  It  is  all  for  you,  dearest,"  I  said  in- 
wardly. I  was  very  stupid  all  the  day,  and  felt  an  irre- 
sistible desire  to  cry  like  a  child.  Even  now  tears  fill 
my  eyes.  If  I  have  sinned  greatly,  I  bear  a  heavy 
punishment. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  297 


5  July. 

After  yesterday's  commotion  a  calm  has  set  in.  The 
clouds  have  discharged  their  electricity,  and  the  storm  is 
over.  I  feel  exhausted  morally  and  physically.  Aniela 
is  better.  This  morning  we  met  alone  on  the  veranda. 
I  put  her  on  a  rocking-chair,  wrapped  a  shawl  around  her 
shoulders,  as  the  morning  was  rather  chilly,  and  said :  — 

"  Aniela  dear,  I  beg  your  pardon  from  my  whole  heart 
for  what  I  said  yesterday.  Forgive  and  forget  if  you 
can,  though  I  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

She  put  out  her  hand  at  once,  and  I  clung  to  it  with 
my  lips.  I  could  have  groaned  aloud ;  there  is  such  a 
gulf  between  my  love  and  my  misery.  Aniela  seemed  to 
feel  it  too,  for  she  did  not  withdraw  her  hand  at  once. 
She  too  tried  to  control  her  emotion,  and  the  feeling 
which  urged  her  towards  me.  Her  neck  and  breast 
heaved  as  if  she  were  strangling  the  sobs  that  rose  to 
her  throat.  She  feels  that  I  love  her  beyond  everything ; 
that  a  love  like  mine  is  not  to  be  met  with  every  day ; 
and  that  it  might  have  been  a  treasure  of  happiness  to 
last  our  whole  life.  Presently  she  grew  more  composed 
and  her  face  became  serene.  There  was  nothing  but 
resignation  there,  and  angelic  goodness. 

"  There  is  peace  between  us,  is  there  not  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  I  replied. 

"  And  forever  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell,  dearest  ?  You  know  best  how  things 
stand  with  me." 

Her  eyes  again  grew  misty,  and  again  she  recovered 
herself. 

"  All  will  be  well,"  she  said,  "  you  are  so  good." 

"  I,  good  ?  "  I  exclaimed  with  real  indignation ;  "  do 
you  not  know  that  if  you  had  not  fallen  ill  yesterday  I 
should  —  " 

I  did  not  finish.  I  suddenly  remembered  that  it  would 
be  mean  and  cowardly  to  use  such  a  weapon  against  her. 


298  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

I  felt  all  the  more  ashamed  of  my  rashness  as  I  saw  the 
troubled  eyes  looking  anxiously  into  mine. 

"  What  did  you  want  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  say  words  unworthy  of  myself ;  be- 
sides, they  have  no  meaning  now." 

"  Leon !  I  must  know  what  you  meant,  else  I  shall  have 
no  peace." 

Suddenly  a  breath  of  wind  blew  a  lock  of  her  hair  into 
her  eyes.  I  rose,  and  with  the  light,  tender  touch  of  a 
mother,  put  it  back  into  its  place. 

"  Dear  Aniela,  do  not  force  me  to  tell  what  I  ought  to 
forget.  If  it  be  a  question  of  your  peace  of  mind  I  pledge 
you  my  word  that  you  need  not  have  any  fear  for  the 
future." 

"  You  promise  this  ?  "  she  asked,  still  looking  intently 
at  me. 

"Yes,  most  solemnly  and  emphatically;  will  that 
satisfy  you,  and  drive  out  any  foolish  notions  from  the 
little  head?" 

The  postman  coming  in  with  a  parcel  of  letters  inter- 
rupted our  conversation.  There  was  the  usual  budget 
from  the  East  for  Kromitzki ;  only  one  letter  for  Aniela, 
from  Sniatynski  (I  recognized  his  handwriting  on  the 
envelope),  and  one  for  me  from  Clara.  The  latter  does 
not  say  much  about  herself,  but  inquires  most  minutely 
what  I  am  doing.  I  told  Aniela  who  it  was  that  had 
written,  and  she,  to  show  me  that  all  ill-feeling  and  con- 
straint had  gone,  began  to  tease  me.  I  paid  her  back  in 
the  same  coin,  and  pointing  to  Sniatynski's  letter  said 
there  was  another  poor  man  who  had  succumbed  to  little 
Aniela's  wiles.  We  laughed  and  bandied  jests  for  a 
little  time. 

The  human  soul,  like  the  bee,  extracts  sweetness  even 
from  bitter  herbs.  The  most  unhappy  wretch  still  tries 
to  squeeze  out  a  little  happiness  from  his  woes,  and  the 
merest  shadow  and  pretext  will  serve  his  turn.  Some- 
times I  think  that  this  intense  longing  for  happiness  is 
one  proof  more  that  happiness  is  awaiting  us  in  another 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  299 

world.  I  am  convinced  also  that  pessimism  was  invented 
as  a  comfort  to  satisfy  a  want,  sum  up  all  human  misery, 
and  put  it  into  a  philosophic  formula.  It  satisfies  our 
thirst  for  truth  and  knowledge,  and  happiness  itself  is 
nothing  but  satisfied  craving.  Perhaps  love  in  itself  is 
such  a  source  of  happiness  that  even  a  clouded  love  like 
ours  is  interwoven  with  golden  rays.  Such  a  ray  fell  on 
our  path  to-day.  I  had  not  expected  it,  as  I  had  not  ex- 
pected that  a  man  whose  desires  are  without  limits  could 
be  satisfied  with  so  little. 

We  had  scarcely  read  our  letters  when  Pani  Celina, 
who  is  now  able  to  walk  without  help,  came  towards  us 
with  a  footstool  for  Aniela. 

"  Oh  mamma  ! "  cried  out  Aniela,  in  a  shocked  voice ; 
"  You  ought  not  to  do  that." 

"And  did  you  not  yourself  nurse  me  night  and  day 
when  I  was  ill  ?  " 

I  took  the  footstool  from  Pani  Celina's  hands,  and 
kneeling  down  before  Aniela,  I  waited  until  she  had  put 
her  little  feet  upon  it ;  and  kneeling  thus  before  her  for 
a  second  filled  me  with  happiness  for  the  whole  day.  It 
is  a  fact.  A  very  poor  man  lives  upon  crumbs,  and 
smiles  gratefully  —  through  tears. 


6  July. 

I  have  a  crippled  heart,  but  it  is  capable  of  love.  It  is 
only  now  I  fully  understand  what  Sniatynski  meant.  If 
I  were  not  a  man  out  of  joint,  without  an  even-balanced 
mind,  poisoned  by  scepticism,  criticism  of  myself,  and 
criticism  of  criticism,  if  my  love  were  in  harmony  with 
law  and  principles,  I  should  have  found  in  Aniela  the 
dogma  of  my  life,  and  other  dogmas,  other  beliefs, 
would  have  come  to  me  in  course  of  time.  Yet  I  do 
not  know ;  perhaps  I  could  not  love  otherwise  than 
crookedly ;  and  in  this  lies  my  incapacity  for  life.  In 
short,  that  which  ought  to  have  been  my  health  and 


300  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

salvation  has  become  my  disease  and  damnation.  Strange 
to  say,  there  was  no  lack  of  warnings.  It  almost  seems 
as  if  people  had  foreseen  what  would  befall  me.  I  re 
member  constantly  the  words  Sniatynski  wrote  to  me 
when  I  was  with  the  Davises  at  Peli :  "  Something  must 
always  be  growing  within  us ;  beware  lest  something 
should  grow  in  you  which  would  cause  your  unhappiness, 
and  the  unhappiness  of  those  near  and  dear  to  you."  I 
laughed  then  at  the  words,  yet  how  true  they  were.  My 
father,  too,  spoke  several  times  as  if  he  had  pierced  the 
veil  that  hides  the  future.  To-day  the  remembrance  is 
too  late.  I  know  it  is  useless  to  rake  up  the  ashes  of  the 
past,  but  I  cannot  help  it.  I  am  sorry  for  myself,  but 
more  sorry  still  for  Aniela.  She  would  have  been  a  hun- 
dred times  happier  with  me  than  with  Kromitzki.  Sup- 
posing even  I  should  have  subjected  her  at  first  to 
analysis,  and  discovered  various  faults,  I  should  have 
loved  her  all  the  same.  She  would  have  been  mine,  and 
as  such  she  would  have  become  part  of  me  and  entered 
into  the  sphere  of  my  egoism.  Her  faults  would  have 
been  my  weaknesses,  and  we  are  always  ready  to  make 
allowance  for  ourselves,  and  though  we  criticise  self  we 
do  not  cease  to  care  for  its  well-being.  Thus  she  would 
have  been  dear  to  me  ;  and  as  she  is  infinitely  better  than 
I,  in  time  she  would  have  become  my  pride,  t\Le  noblest 
part  of  my  soul ;  I  should  have  found  out  that  criticism, 
as  far  as  she  was  concerned,  was  out  of  place ;  gradually 
she  would  have  won  me  over  to  her  pure  faith  and 
wrought  my  salvation.  All  that  has  been  wasted,  spoiled, 
and  transmuted  into  a  tragedy  for  her,  —  into  evil  and  a 
tragedy  for  me. 


7  July. 

I  have  been  reading  what  I  wrote  yesterday,  and  am 
struck  by  what  I  said  at  the  end,  namely :  that  the  love 
which  might  have  been  my  salvation  has  become  a  source 
of  evil.     I  cannot  quite  agree  with  the  thought.     How 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  801 

oan  love  for  a  pure  woman  like  Aniela  bring  forth  evil  ? 
One  word  explains  it,  —  it  is  a  crooked  love.  I  must  own 
the  truth.  If  two  years  ago  somebody  had  told  me  that 
I,  a  civilized  man,  a  man  with  aesthetic  nerves,  and  living 
in  peace  with  the  penal  code,  should  meditate  for  nights 
and  days  how  to  put  out  of  the  world,  even  by  murder,  a 
man  who  would  be  in  my  way,  I  should  have  taken  that 
somebody  for  an  escaped  lunatic.  Yet  it  is  true ;  I  have 
come  to  that.  Kromitzki  shuts  out  from  me  the  world ; 
he  takes  from  me  the  earth,  water,  and  air.  I  cannot 
live  because  he  lives ;  and  for  that  reason  I  incessantly 
think  of  his  death.  What  a  simple  and  complete  solution 
of  all  the  difficulties  and  entanglements  his  death  would 
be.  I  thought  more  than  once  that  since  the  hypnotizer 
can  send  his  medium  to  sleep,  a  more  concentrated  power 
would  be  able  to  put  him  to  sleep  forever.  I  have  sent 
for  all  the  newest  books  about  hypnotism.  In  the  mean 
while  with  every  glance  I  say  to  Kromitzki,  "  Die  ! "  and 
if  such  a  suggestion  were  sufficient,  he  would  have  been 
dead  some  time  ago.  But  the  whole  result  of  it  is  that 
he  is  as  well  as  ever,  is  Aniela's  husband,  and  I  remain 
with  the  consciousness  that  my  intention  is  equally  crimi- 
nal and  foolish,  ridiculous,  and  unworthy  of  an  active 
man ;  and  it  makes  me  lose  my  self-respect  more  and 
more.  Yet  it  does  not  prevent  my  trying  to  hypnotize 
Kromitzki. 

It  is  the  old  story  again  of  the  intelligent  man  who, 
given  up  by  the  doctors,  goes  for  advice  to  quacks  and 
wise  women.  I  want  to  kill  my  enemy  by  hypnotism  ; 
and  as  it  only  shows  my  own  worthlessness,  it  is  I  who 
suffer  by  it.  I  must  also  confess  that  as  often  as  I  am 
alone,  I  begin  to  think  of  all  possible  means  in  human 
power  to  put  the  hateful  man  out  of  the  way.  For  some 
time  I  nursed  the  thought  of  killing  him  in  a  duel ;  but 
this  would  not  lead  to  anything.  Aniela  would  never 
marry  the  man  who  had  killed  her  husband ;  then,  like 
a  common  criminal,  I  began  to  think  of  other  ways.  And 
what  is  the  strangest  thing  of  all,  I  discovered  ways 


302  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

which  human  justice  would  not  be  able  to  detect.  Fool- 
ishness !  vain  thoughts  !  pure  theory  ! 

Kroniitzki  need  have  no  fear  for  his  life;  thoughts 
like  these  will  never  be  acted  upon.  I  should  not  kill 
him  if  I  could  do  it  without  more  responsibility  than  is 
incurred  in  crushing  a  spider  ;  should  not  kill  him  if  we 
two  were  alone  together  on  a  desert  island.  If  one  could 
divide  the  human  brain  as  one  cuts  in  two  an  apple,  and 
lay  bare  its  thoughts,  it  would  be  found  that  mine  is 
honeycombed  with  murderous  thoughts.  What  is  more, 
I  am  well  aware  that  if  I  refrain  from  killing  Kromitzki 
it  is  not  by  reason  of  any  moral  principle  contained  in 
the  law  "Thou  shalt  do  no  murder."  This  law  I  have 
already  violated  morally.  I  refrain  from  killing  him 
because  some  remnants  of  chivalric  tradition  bar  my 
way ;  because  my  refined  nerves  would  not  permit  me  to 
commit  a  brutal  deed;  in  short,  I  am  too  far  removed 
from  primitive  man  to  be  physically  competent  to  the 
task,  though  morally  I  slay  him  every  day.  And  now  I 
ask  myself  whether,  in  presence  of  a  higher  judgment, 
I  should  be  held  responsible,  as  if  I  had  committed  the 
deed. 

It  may  be  that  if  one  could  lay  open  the  human  brain, 
as  I  said  before,  in  the  most  virtuous  individual  thoughts 
would  be  found  to  make  our  hair  stand  on  end.  I  re- 
member that,  when  a  little  boy,  there  came  upon  me  a 
period  of  such  religious  fervor  that  I  prayed  from  morn- 
ing until  night ;  and  at  the  same  time,  in  the  midst  of 
my  pious  transports,  there  came  into  my  mind  blasphe- 
mous thoughts,  as  if  an  evil  wind  had  blown  them  thither, 
or  a  demon  whispered  them  into  my  ear.  In  the  same 
way  I  had  irreverent  thoughts  about  persons  whom  I 
loved  with  all  my  heart  and  for  whom  I  would  have 
given  my  life  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  I  remem- 
ber that  this,  which  I  might  call  a  tragedy  of  childhood, 
cost  me  a  great  deal  of  anguish.  But  I  will  not  dwell 
upon  that  now.  Going  back  to  blasphemous  or  criminal 
thoughts,  I  do  not  think  we  are  responsible  for  them,  as 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  303 

they  come  from  the  knowledge  of  evil,  not  from  an  evil 
growing  within  the  organism  itself ;  and  for  the  very 
reason  that  it  is  outward  to  ourselves  we  fancy  an  evil 
spirit  suggesting  the  thoughts.  Man  listens  to  it,  and 
being  averse  to  evil,  spurns  it  ;  and  there  may  be  some 
merit  in  this.  But  with  me  it  is  different.  The  thought  of 
getting  rid  of  Kromitzki  does  not  come  from  the  outside, 
but  springs  from  me  and  exists  within  me.  I  have  come 
down  to  that  morally,  and  if  I  do  not  commit  the  deed  it 
is  a  mere  matter  of  nerves.  The  part  of  my  inward 
Mephistopheles  is  confined  to  mocking  and  whispering 
into  my  ear  that  the  deed  would  only  prove  my  energy, 
and  not  be  much  of  a  crime. 

These  are  the  crossways  on  which  I  never  dreamed  of 
finding  myself.  I  look  into  the  depths  of  my  own  self 
with  amazement.  T  do  not  know  whether  my  excep- 
tional troubles  will  partly  atone  for  my  errors,  but  one 
thing  I  know,  namely :  that  he  whose  life  cannot  find 
room  in  the  simple  code  Aniela  and  others  like  her  cling 
to,  if  his  soul  is  brimming  over  and  breaks  its  bounds  it 
must  mix  with  dust  and  be  polluted  in  the  mud. 


9  July. 
To-day  in  the  reading-room  Kromitzki  pointed  out  to 
me  an  Englishman  accompanied  by  a  very  beautiful 
woman,  and  told  me  their  story.  The  beauty  is  a  Rou- 
manian by  birth  and  married  a  Wallachian  bankrupt 
Boyar,  from  whom  the  Englishman  simply  bought  her  at 
Ostend.  I  have  heard  of  similar  transactions  at  least  a 
dozen  times.  Kromitzki  even  mentioned  the  sum  the 
Englishman  had  given  for  her.  The  story  made  a 
strange  impression  upon  me.  I  thought  to  myself,  "  This 
is  one  way,  however  disgraceful  for  the  seller  and  buyer ; 
it  is  a  simple  method  of  obtaining  a  desired  result.  The 
woman  concerned  in  it  need  not  know  anything  about 
the  transaction,  and  the  agreement  could  be  concealed 


304  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

under  decent  appearances.  Involuntarily  I  began  to  ap- 
ply the  idea  to  our  own  situation.  Suppose  it  answered. 
The  whole  thing  presented  itself  to  me  under  two  as- 
pects :  in  regard  to  Aniela  as  a  horrible  profanation  ;  in 
regard  to  Kromitzki,  not  only  as  feasible,  but  at  the 
same  time  gratifying  my  scorn  and  hatred  for  him.  If 
he  agreed  to  it,  he  would  prove  himself  a  villain,  and 
show  what  kind  of  man  he  is,  and  what  a  monstrous 
thing  has  been  done  in  giving  Aniela  to  him.  I  should 
then  be  quite  justified  in  all  my  endeavors  to  take  her 
from  him.  But  would  he  agree?  I  said  to  myself: 
"  You  hate  him,  and  consequently  believe  him  capable  of 
any  evil."  But  thinking  of  him  objectively,  I  remem- 
bered that  the  man  had  sold  his  wife's  property,  had  de- 
ceived her  and  Pani  Celina,  and  also  that  the  ruling 
passion  of  his  life  was  greed  for  gain.  It  was  not  I 
alone  who  considered  him  as  one  wholly  possessed  by 
the  gold  fever.  Sniatynski  thought  the  same,  and  so  do 
my  aunt  and  Pani  Celina.  This  kind  of  moral  disease 
always  leads  into  pitfalls.  I  understand  that  much  will 
depend  upon  the  state  of  his  affairs.  How  they  stand 
nobody  seems  to  know,  unless  it  be  his  agent  Chwas- 
towski.  It  suddenly  struck  me  that  I  might  get  some 
information  from  this  same  Chwastowski,  but  that  would 
take  some  time.  Perhaps  I  will  run  over  to  Vienna  and 
see  his  brother  the  doctor,  who  is  working  in  the  Vienna 
hospitals  ;  the  brothers  are  sure  to  correspond  with  each 
other.  My  aunt  thinks  that  he  is  not  doing  as  well  as 
he  wants  us  to  believe,  and  I  imagine  that  he  has  sunk 
all  his  money  in  some  speculation  from  which  he  expects 
a  great  profit.  Will  he  succeed  ?  —  that  is  the  question. 
He  himself  does  not  know ;  hence  his  restlessness,  and 
the  multitude  of  letters  he  sends  to  young  Chwastowski. 
In  the  mean  while  I  will  sound  him  cautiously,  lest  I 
should  rouse  his  suspicions,  as  to  what  he  thinks  of  the 
Boyar  who  sold  his  wife  to  the  Englishman.  I  do  not 
suppose  for  a  moment  that  he  will  be  quite  sincere,  but 
J  will  help  him  and  guess  the  rest.     The  whole  sum  and 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  305 

substance  of  this  is,  that  it  has  put  a  little  more  life  into 
me.  There  is  nothing  more  horrible  than  to  suffer  pas- 
sively ;  and  anything  that  rouses  me  from  my  apathy  is 
acceptable.  I  repeat  to  myself,  "  At  least  to-morrow  and 
the  day  after,  you  will  have  something  to  do  to  further 
your  plans ;  "  and  that  promises  a  transition  from  utter 
passiveness  to  a  feverish  activity.  I  must  be  doing 
something;  it  is  a  question  of  not  losing  control  over 
my  senses.  I  pledged  my  word  to  Aniela  not  to  attempt 
my  life,  and  I  cannot  go  on  living  as  I  do.  If  the  road 
I  am  taking  be  ignominious,  the  ignominy  will  be  for 
Kromitzki  more  than  for  me.  I  must  and  will  separate 
them,  not  only  for  my  own  sake  but  also  for  Aniela's 
sake.  I  am  really  feverish.  Everybody  seems  to  de- 
rive some  benefit  from  the  bathing  except  me. 


10  July. 
There  are  some  hot  days  even  in  Gastein.  What  heat ! 
Aniela  is  dressed  in  white  soft  flannel,  such  as  English 
girls  wear  for  lawn-tennis.  We  have  our  breakfast  in 
the  open  air.  She  comes  from  her  bath  as  bright  and 
fresh  as  the  snow  at  sunrise.  The  supple  figure  shows 
to  great  advantage  in  the  graceful  dress.  The  morning 
light  falls  upon  her  and  shows  distinctly  every  hair  on 
the  eyebrows,  lashes,  and  the  delicate  down  on  either 
side  of  her  face.  The  hair  is  glistening  with  moisture 
and  looks  fairer  in  this  light,  and  the  eyelids  are  almost 
transparent.  How  young  she  is,  and  how  intoxicating 
her  appearance  !  In  her,  then,  is  my  life,  in  her  every- 
thing I  want.  I  will  not  go  away,  I  cannot.  Looking  at 
her  I  seem  to  lose  my  senses  from  intoxication,  and  at 
the  same  time  from  pain ;  for  close  by  her  side  sits  he 
who  is  her  husband.  It  cannot  continue  thus  ;  let  her 
belong  to  no  one  provided  she  be  not  his.  She  under- 
stands to  a  certain  extent  what  I  suffer,  but  not  alto- 
gether. She  does  not  love  her  husband,  but  considers  it 
her  duty  to  live  with  him.     I  gnash  my  teeth   at   the 

20 


806  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

very  thought,  for  in  admitting  his  rights  she  degrades 
herself ;  and  that  is  not  allowed,  even  to  her.  Far  bet- 
ter she  were  dead.  Then  she  will  be  mine ;  because  the 
lawful  husband  will  remain  behind,  but  not  I.  By  this 
token  I  am  more  lawfully  hers  than  he  is. 

There  is  something  very  strange  going  on  within  me  at 
times.  For  instance,  when  I  am  very  tired  or  when  my 
mind  is  concentrated  upon  one  point  I  seem  to  look  into 
the  future,  into  far-away  space  which  remains  invisible 
to  me  in  a  normal  state.  Then  there  comes  to  me  such  a 
conviction  that  Aniela  belongs  to  me  —  that  in  some  way 
she  is  or  will  be  mine  —  that  when  I  wake  up  I  have  to 
remind  myself  that  there  exists  such  a  man  as  Kromitzki. 
Maybe  in  moments  like  those  I  cross  the  boundary  Which 
separates  the  living  from  the  dead,  and  have  a  vision  of 
things  more  perfect,  such  as  the  ideals  we  dream  about, 
as  they  might  shape  themselves  in  outward  form.  Why 
is  it  these  two  worlds  are  not  more  in  touch  with  each 
other  ?  As  often  as  I  try  to  solve  this  problem  I  lose 
myself ;  I  cannot  understand  this  want  of  harmony,  but 
feel  dimly  that  therein  lie  our  imperfection  and  our 
misery.  The  thought  comforts  me,  for  in  the  ideal  world 
Aniela  could  not  belong  to  a  man  like  Kromitzki. 


11  July. 

Another  disappointment,  another  plan  shattered,  but  I 
have  still  hope  that  all  is  not  lost.  I  spoke  to-day  with 
Kromitzki  about  the  Boyar  who  sold  his  wife,  and  in- 
vented a  whole  story  in  order  to  discover  his  real  feelings. 
We  met  the  Englishman  with  his  purchased  wife  near 
the  Cascades.  I  began  by  praising  her  beauty,  and  then 
remarked  :  — 

"  The  doctor  here  told  me  something  about  the  trans- 
action, and  I  think  you  are  a  little  hard  upon  the  Boyar." 

"  Hard  upon  him  ?  not  a  bit ;  he  amuses  me  intensely," 
he  replied. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  307 

"There  are  extenuating  circumstances  in  the  case. 
He  is  not  only  a  Boyar,  but  the  owner  of  extensive  tan- 
nery works.  Suddenly,  because  of  the  infection,  the  im- 
portation of  skins  from  Eoumania  was  forbidden.  The 
man  recognized  that  unless  he  could  tide  over  the  time 
until  the  law  was  repealed  he  would  be  ruined,  and  with 
him  hundreds  of  families  to  whom  he  gave  employment. 
My  dear  fellow,  he  looked  at  it  from  a  business  point  of 
view ;  perhaps  business  morality  is  a  little  different  from 
general  morality,  and  as  he  had  once  entered  into  that  —  " 

"  He  had  a  right  to  sell  his  wife  ?  To  fulfil  one  part 
of  his  duties  he  had  no  right  to  trample  upon  another 
and  perhaps  more  binding  duty." 

Kromitzki  could  not  have  disappointed  me  more  thor- 
oughly than  by  thus  showing  some  decent  feeling.  But 
I  did  not  give  up  my  hope  at  once.  I  know  that  even 
the  meanest  person  has  still  at  his  disposition  high- 
sounding  words  wherewith  to  mask  his  real  character. 
Therefore  I  went  on  :  — 

"You  do  not  take  into  account  one  thing,  namely,  that 
the  man  would  have  dragged  his  wife  with  him  into  pov- 
erty. Confess  it  is  a  singular  idea  of  duty  that  it  should 
lead  us  to  deprive  those  dependent  on  us  of  their  daily 
bread." 

"  Do  you  know,  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so  deucedly 
sober-minded." 

"  You  fool ! "  I  thought  to  myself ;  "  don't  you  under- 
stand that  these  are  not  my  views,  but  views  I  want 
you  to  adopt  ?  "     Aloud  I  said :  — 

"  I  only  try  to  put  myself  into  the  place  of  this  business 
man.  Besides,  you  do  not  consider  that  the  woman  prob- 
ably did  not  love  her  husband,  and  that  the  other  man 
was  aware  of  it." 

"  In  such  a  case  they  were  worthy  of  each  other." 

"  That  is  another  question  altogether.  Looking  a  little 
deeper  into  the  affair,  and  supposing  that  being  in  love 
with  the  Englishman,  she  nevertheless  remained  faith- 
ful to  her  husband,  she  may  be  worthier  than  you  think. 


508  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

As  to  the  Boyar,  he  may  be  a  villain  for  anything  I  know, 
but  what  can  he  do,  I  ask  you,  in  case  somebody  comes 
to  him  and  says :  '  You  are  a  bankrupt  twice  over ;  you 
have  debts  you  cannot  pay,  and  a  wife  that  does  not  love 
you.  Divorce  that  woman,  and  1  will  take  care  of  her 
future,  and  will  also  take  upon  me  all  your  liabilities.' 
It  is  a  way  of  speaking,  to  say  the  man  '  sold '  his  wife ; 
but  can  a  transaction  like  this  be  called  a  sale  ?  Con- 
sider that  the  merchant  who  agreed  to  this  proposition 
by  one  stroke  saved  his  wife  from  poverty,  —  and  possibly 
this  is  the  right  way  to  look  upon  duty, —  and  saved  all 
those  who  depended  upon  him  !  " 

Kromitzki  thought  a  little,  then  dropped  his  eyeglass 
and  said :  — 

"  My  dear  fellow,  as  to  business  I  flatter  myself  that  I 
know  a  great  deal  more  about  it  than  you  ;  but  as  to  argu- 
ments, I  confess  that  you  would  soon  drive  me  into  a 
corner.  If  you  had  not  inherited  millions  from  your 
father,  you  would  be  able  to  amass  a  fortune  as  a  barrister. 
You  have  put  the  whole  thing  in  such  a  light  that  I  do 
not  know  what  to  think  of  that  Roumanian  chap.  All  I 
know  about  it  is  that  some  kind  of  transaction  about  his 
wife  had  occurred,  and  that,  put  it  in  whatever  light  you 
will,  is  always  a  disreputable  thing.  Besides,  as  I  am 
somewhat  of  a  merchant  myself,  I  will  tell  you  another 
thing :  a  bankrupt  can  always  find  a  way  out  of  his 
difficulties  :  he  either  makes  another  fortune  and  then 
pays  his  debts,  or  he  blows  out  his  brains  and  pays  with 
his  life ;  and  at  the  same  time,  if  he  is  married,  he  sets 
his  wife  free  and  gives  her  another  chance." 

I  fumed  and  raged  inwardly,  and  would  have  given 
anything  if  I  could  have  shouted  out  to  him  :  "  You  are 
a  bankrupt  already  in  one  thing,  for  your  wife  does  not 
love  you.  You  see  the  Cascades;  jump  in,  set  her  free, 
and  give  her  the  chance  of  some  happiness."  But  I  re- 
mained silent,  chewing  the  bitter  cud  of  my  reflections. 
Kromitzki,  however  commonplace  he  might  be,  though 
capable  of  selling  Gluchow  and  taking  advantage  of  his 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  309 

wife's  trust  in  him,  was  not  the  villain  I  took  him  for. 
It  was  a  disappointment  and  destroyed  the  plan  to  which 
for  the  moment  I  had  clung  as  to  a  plank  of  safety. 
Again  I  felt  powerless,  and  saw  looming  up  before  me 
the  vast  solitude.  Nevertheless,  I  held  fast  to  that  pur- 
pose because  I  understood  that  unless  I  could  do  some- 
thing, I  should  go  mad.  "  It  will  at  least  prepare  the 
ground  for  anything  that  may  turn  up,  and  accustom 
Kromitzki  to  the  thought  of  parting  with  Aniela,"  I  said 
to  myself.  As  I  said  before,  nobody  knows  in  what 
state  Kromitzki's  affairs  are,  but  I  suppose  that  a  man 
who  speculates  is  liable  to  losses  as  well  as  to  gains.  I 
said  to  him :  — 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  your  principles  are,  strictly 
speaking,  business  principles,  but  at  any  rate  they  are 
the  sentiments  of  an  honorable  man,  and  I  respect  you 
for  them.  You  said,  if  I  understood  you,  that  a  man  has 
no  right  to  drag  his  wife  with  him  into  poverty." 

"  No,  I  did  not  say  that }  I  only  said  that  to  sell  one's 
wife  is  a  villany  ;  the  wife  ought  to  share  her  husband's 
fate.  I  think  but  little  of  a  fair-weather  wife,  who  wants 
to  break  her  marriage  vows  because  her  husband  cannot 
give  her  the  comforts  of  life." 

"Suppose  she  did  not  agree,  he  might  set  her  free 
against  her  will.  Besides,  if  she  knew  that  by  submitting 
to  a  divorce,  she  could  save  her  husband,  duty  well  un- 
derstood would  bid  her  to  yield." 

"  It  is  unpleasant  even  to  talk  about  such  things." 

"  Why  ?  are  you  sorry  for  the  Boyar  ?  " 

"  Not  I ;  I  shall  always  hold  him  for  a  blackguard." 

"Because  you  do  not  look  at  things  from  an  objective 
point  of  view.  But  that  is  not  astonishing.  A  man  like 
you,  with  whom  everything  is  prospering,  cannot  enter 
into  the  psychology  of  a  bankrupt  unless  he  be  a  philos- 
opher ;  and  philosophy  has  nothing  to  do  with  making 
millions." 

I  did  not  wish  to  prolong  the  conversation,  so  utterly 
disgusted  was  I  with  my  own  perversity.    I  had  sown 


310  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

the  seed,  —  a  very  small  and  pitiable  seed  to  produce 
anything ;  and  yet  I  clung  to  it  tenaciously.  One  thing 
revived  my  hope.  At  the  moment  when  I  tried  to  make 
him  believe  that  a  ruined  man  ought  to  set  his  wife  free, 
there  was  a  certain  constraint  and  trouble  in  his  expres- 
sion. I  also  noticed  tliat  when  I  spoke  about  his  millions 
a  slight  sigh  escaped  him.  To  infer  from  this  that  he  is 
on  the  brink  of  ruin,  would  be  jumping  at  conclusions  ; 
but  I  may  fairly  conjecture  that  his  affairs  are  in  a  pre- 
carious state.  I  resolved  to  get  at  the  truth  as  quickly 
as  possible. 

In  the  mean  while  my  own  self  seemed  to  be  divided 
in  two  parts.  The  one  said :  "  If  you  waver  ever  so  little, 
I  will  push  you  downward  if  it  should  cost  me  my  whole 
fortune.  I  will  work  your  ruin,  and  when  I  come  to  deal 
with  a  broken  man,  it  remains  to  be  seen  whether  for 
certain  transactions  you  do  not  find  a  gentler  word  than 
'villany.' "  Yet  I  was  conscious  at  the  same  time  that  these 
were  not  my  thoughts  nor  my  ways  of  dealing ;  that  they 
had  been  suggested  to  me  by  somebody'-  else,  and  that  but 
for  my  desperate  position  they  would  never  have  found 
room  in  me,  as  they  are  averse  to  my  nature  and  repulsive 
to  me.  Money  never  played  any  part  in  my  life,  either 
as  means  or  as  aim.  I  consider  myself  incapable  of  using 
such  a  weapon,  and  I  felt  what  a  degradation  it  would  be 
for  me  and  Aniela  to  introduce  that  element  into  our 
relations  to  each  other.  The  thought  of  it  was  so  re- 
pulsive to  me  that  I  said  to  myself :  "  Will  you  not  spare 
yourself  ?  Must  you  even  drink  from  such  a  bowl  ? 
See  how  you  are  degenerating  step  by  step.  Formerly 
thoughts  like  these  would  never  have  crossed  your  mind ; 
and  what  is  more,  schemes  like  these  are  utterly  useless, 
and  will  only  lower  you  in  your  own  eyes." 

In  fact,  formerly,  when  my  aunt  spoke  of  Kromitzki's 
affairs  in  a  doubting  spirit,  it  had  always  caused  me  some 
uneasiness.  The  prospect  that  at  some  time  or  other  he 
might  want  me  to  assist  him  or  take  a  share  in  his  trans- 
actions had  made  me  consider  what  I  should  do  in  such 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  311 

a  case ;  and  I  always  vowed  that  I  would  decline  and 
have  nothing  to  do  with  any  of  his  afEairs  ;  so  repugnant 
to  me  was  the  thought  of  mingling  money  matters  with 
my  relations  to  Aniela.  I  remember  that  I  saw  in  this 
another  proof  of  the  nobility  and  refinement  of  my  feel- 
ings. To-day  I  grasp  that  weapon  as  if  I  were  a  banker 
and  had  lived  by  money  transactions  all  my  life. 

I  perceive  with  absolute  certainty  that  my  thoughts 
and  deeds  are  worse  than  myself,  and  I  ask  myself  how 
that  can  be.  Most  probably  because  I  cannot  find  the 
way  out  of  the  labyrinth.  I  love  a  noble  woman ;  my 
love  is  very  great;  and  yet,  putting  the  two  together, 
the  net  result  is  crookedness,  and  enchanted  circles  where 
my  character  loses  itself  and  even  my  nerves  grow  less 
sensitive.  When,  in  former  times,  I  erred  and  strayed 
from  the  right  path  there  still  remained  something,  some 
aesthetic  feeling,  by  the  help  of  which  I  still  distinguished 
good  from  evil.  At  present  I  have  none  of  that  feeling, 
or  if  it  still  exists  it  is  powerless.  If  I  had  only  at  the 
same  time  lost  the  consciousness  of  what  is  ugly  and 
offensive !  But  no ;  I  have  it  still,  only  it  does  not  serve 
me  as  a  curb,  and  is  of  no  effect  except  to  aggravate  my 
troubles.  Beside  my  love  for  Aniela  there  is  no  room 
for  anything ;  but  consciousness  does  not  require  space. 
I  absorb  love,  hatred,  and  sorrow  as  a  cancer  breeds  in  a 
diseased  organism. 

He  who  has  never  been  in  a  position  similar  to  mine 
cannot  understand  it.  I  knew  that  from  love's  entangle- 
ments spring  various  sufferings,  but  I  did  not  appreciate 
those  sufferings.  I  did  not  believe  they  were  so  real  and 
so  difficult  to  bear.  Only  now  I  understand  the  difference 
between  "knowing"  and  "believing,"  and  the  meaning 
of  the  French  thinker's  words :  "  We  know  we  must  die, 
but  we  do  not  believe  it." 


312  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


12  July. 

To-day  my  pulses  are  beating  wildly,  and  there  is  a 
singing  in  my  ears ;  for  something  has  occurred  the 
memory  of  which  thrills  every  nerve  as  in  a  fever.  The 
day  was  very  beautiful,  the  evening  more  lovely  still, 
and  there  was  a  full  moon.  We  resolved  to  make  an  ex- 
cursion to  Hofgastein,  —  all  but  Pani  Celina,  who  pre- 
ferred to  remain  at  home.  My  aunt,  Kromitzki,  and  1 
went  down  together  to  the  villa  gate,  whence  Kromitzki 
sped  towards  Straubinger's  to  order  a  carriage,  my  aunt 
and  I  waiting  for  Aniela,  who  lingered  behind.  As  she 
did  not  come  I  went  back  and  saw  her  descending  the 
winding  staircase  leading  from  the  second  floor  into  the 
garden. 

As  the  moon  was  on  the  other  side,  this  part  of  the 
house  was  wrapped  in  darkness,  and  Aniela  came  doAvn 
very  slowly.  There  was  a  moment  when  my  head  was 
on  a  level  with  Aniela's  feet.  The  temptation  was  too 
great ;  I  put  my  hands  gently  around  them  and  pressed 
my  lips  to  them.  I  knew  I  should  have  to  pay  a  heavy 
penalty  for  this  minute  of  happiness,  but  I  could  not 
forego  it.  God  knows  with  what  reverence  I  touched 
her  feet,  and  for  how  much  pain  this  moment  compensated 
me.  But  for  Aniela's  resistance  I  should  have  put  her 
foot  upon  my  head  in  token  that  I  was  her  servant  and 
her  slave.  She  drew  back  and  went  upstairs  again  •  but 
I  ran  down  calling  out  loudly,  so  that  my  aunt  could 
hear  me :  — 

"  Aniela  is  coming,  coming." 

Nothing  remained  for  her  now  but  to  come  down  again, 
which  she  could  do  safely,  as  I  had  remained  near  the 
gate.  At  the  same  moment  Kromitzki  arrived  with  the 
carriage.     Aniela  coming  up  to  us  said :  — 

"  I  came  to  ask  you,  aunty,  to  let  me  stop  at  home.  I 
would  rather  not  leave  mamma  alone.  You  can  go,  and 
I  will  wait  for  you  with  the  tea." 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  313 

"  But  Celina  is  quite  well/'  replied  my  aunt,  with  a 
shade  of  annoyance  in  her  voice,  "it  was  she  who  pro- 
posed the  excursion,  mainly  for  your  sake." 

"  Yes,  but  —  "  began  Aniela. 

Kromitzki  came  up,  and  hearing  what  was  the  matter, 
said  sharply :  "  Please  do  not  raise  any  difficulties." 
And  Aniela,  without  saying  a  word,  took  her  seat  in  the 
carriage. 

In  spite  of  my  emotion  I  was  struck  by  Kromitzki's 
tone  of  voice  and  Aniela's  silent  obedience, —  all  the  more 
as  I  had  already  noticed  that  his  manners  towards  her 
during  the  day  had  been  those  of  a  man  who  is  displeased. 
There  was  evidently  the  same  reason,  of  Avhich  I  knew 
nothing,  at  the  bottom  of  this,  and  of  the  estrangement 
some  time  ago.  But  there  was  no  room  now  for  these 
reflections ;  the  fresh  memory  of  the  kiss  I  had  imprinted 
on  her  feet  still  overpowered  my  senses.  I  felt  a  great 
delight  and  joy,  not  unmixed  with  fear.  I  could  account 
for  the  delight  because  I  felt  it  every  time  I  only  touched 
her  hand.  But  why  the  joy  ?  Because  I  saw  that  the 
immaculate  Aniela  could  not  escape  from  me  altogether, 
and  must  needs  confess  to  herself :  "  I  am  on  the  down- 
ward path  too,  and  cannot  look  people  in  the  face ;  he 
was  at  my  feet  a  moment  ago,  the  man  who  loves  me, 
and  I  am  obliged  to  be  his  accomplice  and  cannot  go  to 
my  husband  and  tell  him  to  take  me  hence."  I  knew 
she  could  not  do  this  without  creating  a  commotion; 
and  if  she  could,  she  would  not  do  it,  for  fear  of  an  en- 
counter between  me  and  Kromitzki,  —  "  And  who  knows 
for  whom  she  is  most  afraid  ?  "  something  within  me 
whispered. 

Aniela's  position  is  indeed  a  difficult  one,  and  I,  know- 
ing this,  take  advantage  of  it  without  more  scruples  than 
are  admitted  by  a  general  in  time  of  war  who  attacks  the 
enemy  at  his  weakest  point.  I  asked  myself  whether  I 
would  do  the  same  if  Kromitzki  would  make  me  per- 
sonally responsible ;  and  as  I  could  conscientiously  say 
''Yes,"  I  thought  there  was  no  need  for  any  further  con- 


314  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

sideration.  Kromitzki  inspires  me  with  fear  only  in  so 
far  as  he  has  power  to  remove  Aniela  and  put  her  out  of 
my  reach  altogether.  The  very  thought  makes  me  des- 
perate. But  at  this  moment,  in  the  carriage,  I  only  feared 
Aniela.  What  will  happen  to-morrow  ?  How  will  she 
take  it  ?  As  a  liberty,  or  as  a  mere  impulse  of  respect 
and  worship  ? 

I  felt  as  a  dog  may  feel  that  has  done  wrong  and  is 
afraid  of  being  whipped.  Sitting  opposite  Aniela,  I  tried 
at  moments  when  the  moon  shone  on  her  face  to  read 
there  what  was  to  be  my  sentence.  I  looked  at  her  so 
humbly  and  was  so  meek  that  I  pitied  myself,  and  thought 
she  too  ought  to  pity  me  a  little.  But  she  did  not  look 
at  me  at  all,  and  listened  or  seemed  to  listen  attentively  to 
what  Kromitzki  was  telling  my  aunt  he  would  do  if  Gas- 
tein  belonged  to  him.  My  aunt  only  nodded,  and  he  re- 
peated every  moment :  "  Now,  really,  don't  you  think  I 
am  right  ?  "  It  is  evident  that  he  wants  to  impress  my 
aunt  with  his  enterprising  spirit,  and  to  convince  her 
that  he  is  capable  of  making  a  shilling  out  of  every 
penny. 

The  road  to  Hofgastein,  hewn  out  of  the  rocks,  skirt- 
ing the  precipices,  winds  and  twists  around  the  mountain 
slopes.  The  light  of  the  moon  shone  alternately  on  our 
faces  and  those  of  the  ladies  opposite,  according  to  the 
varying  directions  of  the  road.  In  Aniela's  face  I  saw 
nothing  but  a  sweet  sadness,  and  I  took  courage  from  the 
fact  that  it  was  neither  stern  nor  forbidding.  I  did  not 
obtain  a  single  glance,  but  I  comforted  myself  by  the 
thought  that  when  concealed  in  the  shadow,  she  would 
perhaps  look  at  me  and  say  to  herself  :  ''  Kobody  loves 
me  as  he  does,  and  nobody  can  be  at  the  same  time  more 
unhappy  than  he,"  —  which  is  true.  We  were  both  silent. 
Only  Kromitzki  kept  on  talking ;  his  voice  mingled  with 
the  rush  of  the  waters  below  the  rocks  and  the  creaking 
of  the  brake,  which  the  driver  often  applied.  This  creak- 
ing irritated  my  nerves  very  much,  but  the  warm,  trans- 
parent night  lulled  them  into  restfulness  again.     It  was. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  315 

as  I  said  before,  full  moon ;  tlie  bright  orb  had  risen  above 
the  mountains,  and  sailing  through  space  illumined  the 
tops  of  Bocksteinkogl,  the  Tischlkar  glaciers,  and  the 
precipitous  slopes  of  the  Graukogl.  The  snow  on 
the  heights  shone  with  a  pale-green,  metallic  lustre, 
and  as  the  mountain  sides  below  were  shrouded  in 
darkness,  the  snowy  sheen  seemed  to  float  in  mid  air, 
as  if  not  belonging  to  the  earth.  There  was  such  a 
charm,  such  peace  and  restfulness  in  these  sleeping 
mountains,  that  involuntarily  the  words  of  the  poet 
came  into  mind :  — 

"At  such  a  moment,  alas !  two  hearts  are  grieving. 
What  there  is  to  forgive,  they  are  forgiving; 
What  was  to  be  forgot,  they  dismiss  to  oblivion." 

And  yet  what  is  there  to  forgive  ?  That  I  kissed  her 
feet  ?  If  she  were  a  sacred  statue  she  could  not  be  of- 
fended by  such  an  act  of  reverence.  I  thought  if  it  came 
to  an  explanation  between  us  I  would  tell  her  that. 

I  often  think  that  Aniela  does  me  a  great  wrong,  not 
to  say  that  she  calls  things  by  wrong  names.  She  con- 
siders my  love  a  mere  earthly  feeling,  an  infatuation  of 
the  senses.  I  do  not  deny  that  it  is  composed  of  various 
threads,  but  there  are  among  them  some  as  purely  ideal 
as  if  spun  of  poetry.  Very  often  my  senses  are  lulled  to 
sleep,  and  I  love  her  as  one  loves  only  in  early  youth. 
Then  the  second  self  within  me  mocks,  and  says  de- 
risively :  "  I  had  no  idea  you  could  love  like  a  school- 
boy or  a  romanticist !  "  Yet  such  is  the  fact.  I  may  be 
ridiculous,  but  I  love  her  thus,  and  it  is  not  an  artificial 
feeling.  It  is  this  which  makes  my  love  so  complete,  and 
at  the  same  time  so  sad  ;  for  Aniela  misconstrues  it  and 
cannot  enter  into  its  spirit.  Even  now  I  inwardly  spoke 
to  her  thus  :  "  Do  you  think  there  are  no  ideal  chords  in 
my  soul  ?  At  this  moment  I  love  you  in  such  a  way 
that  you  may  accept  my  love  without  fear.  It  would  be 
a  pity  to  spurn  so  much  feeling ;  it  would  cost  you  noth- 
ing, and  it  would  be  my  salvation.     I  could  then  say  to 


316  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

myself :  '  This  is  my  whole  world  ;  within  its  boundaries 
I  am  allowed  to  live.  It  would  be  something  at  least.  I 
would  try  to  change  my  nature,  try  to  believe  in  what 
you  believe,  and  hold  fast  to  it  all  my  life.'  " 

It  seemed  to  me  that  she  ought  to  agree  to  such  a 
proposition,  after  which  there  would  be  everlasting  peace 
between  us.  I  promised  myself  to  put  it  before  her, 
and  once  we  know  that  our  souls  belong  to  each  other  we 
may  even  part.  There  awoke  within  me  a  certain  hope 
that  she  will  agree  to  this,  for  she  must  understand  that 
without  it  both  our  lives  will  remain  miserable. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  when  we  arrived  at  Hofgastein. 
It  was  very  quiet  and  still  in  the  village.  Only  the 
Gasthaus  was  lighted,  and  before  Meger's  some  excel- 
lent voices  were  singing  mountain  airs.  I  thought  of 
asking  the  serenaders  to  sing  before  our  window,  but  I 
found  they  were  not  villagers  ;  they  were  Viennese  moun- 
taineers, to  whom  one  could  not  offer  money.  I  bought 
two  bunches  of  edelweiss  and  other  Alpine  flowers,  and 
giving  one  to  Aniela  I  accidentally,  as  it  were,  unloosened 
the  other  and  the  flowers  fell  under  her  feet. 

"  Let  them  lie  there,"  I  said,  seeing  she  was  stooping 
to  pick  them  up.  I  went  in  search  of  some  more  flowers 
for  my  aunt.  When  I  came  back  I  heard  Kromitzki 
say:  — 

"  Even  here  at  Hofgastein,  by  erecting  another  branch 
establishment,  one  could  easily  make  a  hundred  per  cent." 

"You  are  still  hammering  at  the  same  subject,"  I  said 
quietly.  I  said  this  on  purpose ;  it  was  the  same  as  to 
say  to  Aniela :  "  See,  while  my  whole  being  is  occupied 
with  you  he  thinks  of  nothing  but  how  to  make  money. 
Compare  our  feelings ;  compare  us  with  each  other."  I 
am  almost  certain  she  understood  my  meaning. 

On  the  return  journey  I  made  several  attempts  to  draw 
Aniela  into  general  conversation,  but  did  not  succeed. 
When  we  arrived  at  the  gate  of  the  villa  Kromitzki  went 
upstairs  with  the  ladies,  and  I  remained  behind  to  pay 
for  the  carriage.     When  I  went  up  I  did  not  find  Aniela 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  317 

at  tea.  My  aunt  said  she  had  gone  to  bed  and  seemed 
very  tired.  A  great  uneasiness  got  hold  of  me,  and  I  re- 
proached myself  for  tormenting  her.  There  is  nothing 
more  crushing  for  the  man  who  loves  truly  than  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  is  bringing  unhappiness  on  her  he 
loves.  We  took  our  tea  in  silence,  for  my  aunt  was 
drowsy,  Kromitzki  seemed  depressed,  and  I  tormented 
myself  more  and  more  with  anxious  thoughts.  "  She 
must  have  taken  it  very  much  to  heart,"  I  thought, 
"and  as  usual  has  put  upon  it  the  worst  construction." 
I  expected  she  would  avoid  me  the  next  day  and  consider 
our  treaty  of  peace  broken  by  that  rash  act  of  mine.  This 
filled  me  with  fear,  and  I  resolved  to  go,  or  rather  to 
escape,  the  next  day  to  Vienna ;  firstly,  because  I  dreaded 
meeting  Aniela,  secondly,  because  I  wanted  to  see  Doctor 
Chwastowski ;  and  finally,  I  thought,  —  and  God  knows 
how  bitter  is  the  thought,  —  to  relieve  her  of  my  presence 
for  a  few  days  and  give  her  rest. 


15  July. 

A  whole  budget  of  events.  I  do  not  know  where  to 
begin,  as  the  last  sensations  are  the  uppermost.  Never 
yet  had  I  such  convincing  proofs  that  she  cares  for  me. 
It  will  cost  me  no  small  effort  to  put  everything  down  in 
proper  order.  I  am  now  almost  sure  Aniela  will  agree 
to  the  conditions  I  am  going  to  propose  to  her.  My 
head  is  still  in  a  whirl ;  but  I  will  try  to  start  from  the 
beginning. 

I  have  been  in  Vienna  and  brought  some  news  I  am 
going  to  discuss  with  my  aunt.  I  have  seen  Chwastow- 
ski. What  a  fine  fellow  he  is  !  —  works  at  the  hospitals, 
is  busy  upon  a  series  of  hygienic  articles  his  brother  is 
to  publish  in  three-penny  booklets  for  the  people,  be- 
longs to  several  medical  and  non-medical  associations, 
and  still  finds  time  for  various  gay  entertainments  on 
the  Kaerthner  Strasse.     I  do  not  know  when  he  finds 


SIS  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

time  to  sleep.  And  the  fellow  looks  like  a  giant  from  a 
fair.  What  an  exuberance  of  life  !  —  he  seems  literally 
brimming  over  with  life.  I  told  him  without  any  pre- 
liminaries what  had  brought  me  to  Vienna. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  I  said,  "  whether  you  are  aware  that 
my  aunt  and  I  possess  considerable  capital.  We  are  not 
obliged  to  speculate,  but  if  we  could  invest  our  money  in 
some  enterprise  where  it  would  bring  profit,  the  profit 
would  be  so  much  gain  for  the  country.  I  suppose  if  at 
the  same  time  we  could  render  a  service  to  Pan  Kro- 
mitzki  it  would  be  a  two-fold  gain.  Between  ourselves, 
he  is  personally  indifferent  to  us,  but  he  is  by  his  mar- 
riage connected  with  our  family.  We  should  be  glad 
to  help  him  provided  we  can  do  so  without  running  any 
risk." 

"  And  you  would  like  to  know  how  he  stands  in  his  af- 
fairs, sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  should.  He  seems  very  sanguine  in  his  hopes, 
and  no  doubt  believes  himself  to  be  right.  The  question 
is  whether  he  does  not  delude  himself.  Therefore  if  your 
brother  has  written  you  anything  without  binding  you  to 
secrecy  I  should  like  to  know  what  he  says.  You  might 
also  ask  him  to  give  me  an  exact  statement  as  to  their  busi- 
ness transactions.  My  aunt  relies  upon  you,  considering 
that  the  relations  which  connect  us  with  your  family  are 
of  a  much  older  standing  than  those  connecting  her  with 
Kromitzki." 

"  All  right ;  I  will  let  my  brother  know  about  it.  He 
mentioned  something  in  one  of  his  letters,  but  as  it  does 
not  interest  me  very  much  I  did  not  take  notice  of  it  at 
the  time." 

Saying  this,  he  began  to  search  in  his  desk  among  his 
papers,  where  he  found  it  easily  and  then  read  aloud : 

***I  am  heartly  tired  of  the  place.  No  women  here 
worth  talking  about,  and  not  a  pretty  one  in  the  M'hole 
lot.'  "  He  laughed.  "  No,  that  's  not  what  I  wanted.  He 
would  like  to  be  in  Vienna."  Turning  over  a  page  he 
handed  it  to  me,  but  I  found  only  these  few  lines  :  — 


J 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  SIO 

"As  to  Kromitzki,  his  speculation  iu  oil  has  turned 
out  a  failure.  With  the  Kothschilds  a  struggle  is  im- 
possible, and  he  went  against  them.  We  had  to  get  out 
of  it  as  well  as  we  could,  but  lost  a  deal  of  money.  We 
have  got  a  monopoly  in  the  contract  business ;  there  are 
immense  profits  to  be  made,  but  there  is  also  a  consider- 
able risk.  It  all  depends  upon  the  honesty  of  the  people 
we  deal  with.  We  treat  them  fairly  and  trust  to  luck. 
But  money  is  wanted,  because  the  government  pays  us  at 
stated  terms,  and  we  have  to  pay  money  down,  and  be- 
sides that,  often  receive  bad  material.  I  have  to  look  at 
present  after  everything  myself." 

"We  will  furnish  the  money,"  I  said,  when  I  had 
finished  reading. 

On  the  way  back  to  Gastein  I  thought  it  over  and  my 
better  instincts  prevailed.  "  Let  the  future  take  care  of 
itself,"  I  thought ;  and  in  the  mean  while  would  it  not  be 
more  simple  and  more  honest  to  help  Kromitzki  instead 
of  ruining  him  ?  Aniela  would  appreciate  such  an  act, 
and  my  disinterestedness  would  win  her  approval ;  and 
as  to  the  future,  let  Providence  decide  about  that. 

But  would  it  be  an  act  of  disinterestedness  on  my  part  ? 
Reflecting  upon  it,  I  found  that  my  own  selfish  views  had 
a  great  deal  to  do  with  it.  Thus  I  foresaw  that  Kro- 
mitzki, getting  hold  of  the  money,  would  leave  Gastein  im- 
mediately and  release  me  from  the  torments  his  presence 
near  Aniela  gives  me.  Aniela  would  remain  alone,  sur- 
rounded by  ray  devotion,  with  gratitude  in  her  heart  for 
me,  resentment  or  even  indignation  towards  Kromitzki 
because  he  had  availed  himself  of  my  ofi'er.  I  seemed  to 
see  new  horizons  opening  before  me.  But  above  all,  and 
at  whatever  cost,  I  wanted  to  get  free  of  Kromitzki's 
presence, 

I  thought  so  much  of  my  future  relation  to  Aniela  that 
I  arrived  at  Lend-Gastein  before  I  was  aware  of  it.  At 
Lend  I  found  a  great  commotion.  A  railway  accident 
had  happened  on  the  branch  line  of  Zell  am  See,  and  the 
place  was  full  of  wounded  people ;  but  scarcely  had  I 


320  ^WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

taken  my  seat  in  the  carriage  when  the  impression  the 
killed  and  wounded  had  made  upon  me  gave  way  to  the 
thoughts  that  occupied  me  so  exclusively.  I  saw  clearly 
that  some  change  must  take  place  in  our  relation,  that 
the  present  state  could  not  be  prolonged  indefinitely 
without  doing  mischief  to  both  of  us  and  bringing  us 
both  to  such  a  pass  that  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  roll 
down  the  precipice  there  and  then  and  make  an  end  of  it 
at  once. 

Aniela,  though  she  does  not  yield  in  the  least,  must 
needs  be  distracted  in  her  mind  by  the  continual  presence 
of  that  forbidden  love.  It  is  true  she  does  not  give  me 
any  encouragement,  but  now  and  then  I  kiss  her  hands, 
her  feet ;  she  is  compelled  to  listen  to  words  of  love, 
obliged  to  have  secrets  from  her  husband  and  her 
mother,  and  always  control  herself  and  me  lest  I  might 
overstep  the  boundary.  Life  under  such  conditions  be- 
comes unbearable  to  us  both.  It  must  undergo  some 
change.  At  last  I  had  found,  I  thought,  a  solution  of 
the  problem.  Let  Aniela  frankly  admit  that  she  loves 
me,  and  say  to  me :  "  I  am  yours  heart  and  soul,  and  will 
be  yours  forever ;  but  let  that  satisfy  you.  If  you  agree 
to  that  our  souls  henceforth  will  be  as  one  and  belong  to 
each  other  forever."  And  I  bound  myself  to  her,  I 
fancied  I  was  taking  her  hand  and  saying :  "  I  take  you 
thus  and  promise  not  to  seek  for  anything  more,  promise 
that  our  relations  will  remain  purely  spiritual,  but  as 
binding  as  those  of  husband  and  wife." 

Is  such  an  agreement  feasible,  and  will  it  put  an  end 
to  our  sorrow  ?  For  me  it  is  a  renunciation  of  all  my 
hopes  and  desires,  but  it  creates  for  me  a  new  world  in 
which  Aniela  will  be  mine.  Besides  that,  it  will  make 
our  love  a  legitimate  right ;  and  I  would  give  my  very 
health  if  Aniela  would  agree  to  it,  I  see  in  this  another 
proof  of  the  earnestness  of  my  love,  and  how  I  wish  her 
to  be  mine ;  I  am  ready  to  pay  any  price,  accept  any  re- 
strictions, provided  she  acknowledges  her  love. 

I  began  to  think  intently  whether  she  would  agree. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  321 

And  it  seemed  to  me  she  Avould.    I  heard  myself  speak- 
ing to  her  in  a  persuasive,  irrefutable  manner :  — 

*'  Since  you  really  love  me,  what  difference  can  it  make 
to  you  if  you  tell  me  so  with  your  own  lips  ?  What  can 
there  be  nobler,  holier  than  the  love  I  ask  you  for  ?  I 
have  surrendered  to  you  my  whole  life,  because  I  could  not 
do  otherwise.  Ask  your  own  conscience,  and  it  will  tell 
you  that  you  ought  to  do  this  much  for  me.  It  is  the  same 
relation  as  Beatrice's  to  Dante.  Angels  love  each  other 
in  that  way.  You  will  be  near  me,  as  near  as  one  soul 
can  be  to  another,  and  yet  as  distant  as  if  you  dwelt  on 
the  highest  of  heights.  That  it  is  a  love  above  all 
earthly  loves  is  all  the  more  a  reason  for  your  not  re- 
jecting it ;  carried  on  the  wings  of  such  a  love  your  soul 
will  remain  pure ;  it  will  save  me  and  bring  peace  and 
happiness  to  both  of  us." 

I  felt  within  me  a  boundless  wealth  of  this  almost 
mystic  love,  and  a  belief  that  this  earthly  chrysalis  would 
come  forth  in  another  world  a  butterfly,  which,  detached 
from  all  earthly  conditions  would  soar  from  planet  to 
planet,  till  it  became  united  to  the  spirit  of  All-Life. 
For  the  first  time  the  thought  crossed  my  mind  that 
Aniela  and  I  may  pass  away  as  bodies,  but  our  love  will 
survive  and  even  be  our  immortality.  "  Who  knows,"  I 
thought,  "  whether  this  be  not  the  only  existing  form  of 
immortality  ?  "  —  because  I  felt  distinctly  that  there  is 
something  everlasting  in  my  feeling,  quite  distinct  from 
the  ever  changing  phenomena  of  life.  A  man  must  love 
very  deeply  to  be  capable  of  such  feelings  and  visions ; 
he  must  be  very  unhappy,  and  perhaps  close  on  the  brink 
of  insanity.  I  am  not  yet  on  that  brink,  but  I  am  close 
upon  mysticism,  and  never  so  happy  as  when  I  thus  lose 
myself  and  scatter  my  own  self,  so  that  I  have  some  diflS- 
culty  in  finding  it  again.  I  fully  understand  why  this  is 
the  case.  My  dualism,  my  inward  criticism  shattered  all 
the  foundations  of  my  life,  together  with  the  happiness 
these  foundations  would  have  given  me.  In  those  lands 
where,  instead  of  syllogisms,  visions  and  dim  consciousness 

21 


S22  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

reign  paramount,  criticism  finds  no  room ;  and  this  solu- 
tion gives  me  rest  and  relief. 

Thus  I  rested  when  I  drew  near  Gastein.  I  saw  my- 
self and  Aniela  wedded  spiritually  and  at  peace.  I  had 
the  proud  consciousness  that  I  had  found  a  way  out  of 
the  enchanted  circle  and  into  happiness.  I  was  certain 
Aniela  would  give  me  her  hand,  and  thus  together  we 
would  begin  a  new  life. 

Suddenly  I  started  as  if  waking  from  a  dream,  and  saw 
that  my  hand  was  covered  with  blood.  It  appeared  that 
the  same  vehicle  I  was  travelling  in  had  been  used  to 
transport  some  of  the  injured  victims  of  the  railway  dis- 
aster. There  was  a  deal  of  blood  at  one  side  of  the  seat, 
which  the  driver  had  not  noticed  or  had  forgotten  to  wipe 
off.  My  mysticism  does  not  go  so  far  as  to  create  belief 
in  the  intervention  of  mysterious  powers  through  omens, 
signs,  or  predictions.  Yet,  though  not  superstitious  my- 
self, I  am  able  to  enter  the  train  of  thought  of  a  super- 
stitious man,  and  consequently  observe  the  singular  coin- 
cidence  of  this  fact.  It  seemed  to  me  strange  that  in  the 
carriage  where  I  dreamed  about  the  beginning  of  a  new 
life  some  other  life  had  perhaps  breathed  its  last ;  also 
that  with  bloodstained  hands  I  had  been  thinking  of 
peace  and  happiness. 

Coincidences  like  these  more  or  less  influence  nervous 
persons,  not  by  filling  them  with  presentiments,  but 
rather  by  throwing  a  dark  shadow  upon  all  their 
thoughts.  Undoubtedly  mine  would  have  travelled  in 
that  direction  had  I  not  been  close  upon  Wildbad. 
Slowly  crawling  up  the  hill  I  saw  another  carriage  com. 
ing  down  at  an  unusual  speed.  "  There  will  be  another 
collision,"  I  thought,  as  on  the  steep  road  it  is  very  diffi- 
cult for  two  carriages  to  pass  each  other.  But  at  the 
same  moment  the  driver  of  the  vehicle  put  on  the  brake 
with  all  his  strength,  and  the  horses  went  at  a  slow  pace. 
Suddenly,  to  my  great  astonishment,  I  recognized  in  the 
inmates  of  the  carriage  my  aimt  and  Aniela.  They,  toe, 
had  caught  sight  of  me  ;  and  Aniela  cried  out :  — 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  323 

"  It  is  lie  !     Leon  !  Leon !  " 

In  an  instant  I  was  at  their  side.  My  aunt  fell  upon 
my  neck,  and  repeated,  "  God  has  been  good  to  us  !  " 
and  breathed  as  rapidly  as  if  she  had  been  running  all 
the  way  from  Wildbad.  Aniela  had  clutched  my  hand 
and  held  it  fast ;  then  all  at  once  a  terrible  fear  shone 
in  her  face,  and  she  cried  out :  — 

"  You  are  wounded  ?  " 

I  understood  at  once  what  was  the  matter,  and  said,  — 

"  Not  in  the  least.  I  was  not  at  the  accident  at  all.  I 
got  the  blood  on  my  hand  from  the  carriage,  which  had 
been  used  for  the  wounded." 

"  Is  it  true,  quite  true  ?  " 

«  Quite  true." 

"What  train  was  it  that  was  wrecked?"  asked  my 
aunt. 

"  The  train  coming  from  Zell  am  See." 

"  Oh,  good  God  !  A  telegram  came  to  say  it  was  the 
Vienna  train.  It  almost  killed  me.  Oh,  God,  what  hap- 
piness !     Praise  be  to  God  ! " 

My  aunt  began  wiping  the  perspiration  from  her  face. 
Aniela  was  as  white  as  a  sheet.  She  released  my  hand, 
and  turned  her  head  aside  to  hide  her  tears  and  twitching 
mouth, 

"  We  were  alone  in  the  house,"  continued  my  aunt. 
"  Kromitzki  had  gone  with  some  Belgians  to  Nassfeld. 
The  landlord  came  and  told  us  about  the  accident  on  the 
line,  and  you  can  well  imagine  what  state  I  was  in,  know- 
ing you  were  coming  by  that  same  line.  I  sent  the  land- 
lord at  once  for  a  carriage,  and  this  dear  child  would  not 
let  me  go  alone.  What  a  terrible  time  it  has  been  for 
us !  Thank  God,  we  escaped  with  a  mere  fright.  Did 
you  see  the  wounded  ?  " 

I  kissed  my  aunt's  and  Aniela's  hands,  and  told  them 
what  I  had  seen  at  Lend-Gastein.  It  appeared  that  the 
telegram  sent  to  the  Kurhaus  was  thus  expressed : 
*'  Railway  accident  at  Lend-Gastein  ;  many  killed 
and  wounded."     From  which  everybody  concluded  that 


324  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

the  calamity  had  happened  on  the  Vienna-Salzburg 
line. 

I  gave  them  a  few  fragmentary  details  of  what  I  had 
seen.  I  did  not  think  much  of  what  I  was  saying,  as  my 
head  was  full  of  the  one  joyful  thought :  "  Aniela  could 
not  wait  for  news  at  home,  and  preferred  to  come  with 
ray  aunt  and  meet  me  !  "  Did  she  do  this  for  my  aunt's 
sake  ?  Most  assuredly  not.  I  saw  the  trouble  in  her 
face,  the  sudden  terror  when  she  noticed  the  blood  on 
my  hand,  and  the  lighting  up  of  her  whole  countenance 
when  she  heard  I  had  not  been  near  the  place  at  the  time 
of  the  accident.  I  saw  she  was  still  so  deeply  moved  as 
to  be  inclined  to  weep  from  sheer  happiness.  She  would 
have  burst  into  tears  if  at  that  moment  I  had  taken  her 
hands  and  told  her  how  I  loved  her,  and  would  not  have 
snatched  them  away.  And  as  all  this  was  as  clear  as  the 
day,  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  torments  were  about  to 
end,  and  that  from  that  moment  the  dawn  of  another  life 
had  begun.  From  time  to  time  I  looked  at  her  with 
eyes  in  which  I  concentrated  all  my  power  of  love,  and 
she  smiled  at  me.  I  noticed  that  she  was  without  gloves 
or  mantle.  She  had  evidently  forgotten  them  in  her 
haste  and  perturbation.  As  it  had  grown  rather  chilly,  I 
wanted  to  wrap  her  in  my  overcoat.  She  Resisted  a  little, 
but  my  aunt  made  her  accept  it. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  villa  Pani  Celina  met  me  with 
as  much  overflowing  tenderness  and  delight  as  if  Aniela 
in  case  of  my  death  had  not  been  the  next  of  kin,  and 
heiress  to  the  Ploszow  estate.  Such  noble,  disinterested 
women  are  not  often  met  with  in  this  world.  I  would 
not  guarantee  that  Kromitzki  when  he  comes  to  hear 
about  it  may  not  utter  a  discreet  sigh,  and  think  that 
the  world  would  go  on  quite  as  well  if  there  were  no 
Ploszowskis. 

Kromitzki  returned  very  tired  and  cross.  The  Bel- 
gians he  had  met,  and  with  whom  he  had  gone  to  Nass- 
feld,  were  capitalists  from  Antwerp,  He  spoke  of  them 
as  idiots  who  were  satisfied  to  get  three  per  cent  for  their 


WITHOUT  DOGRLA..  825 

capital.  He  said  when  parting  for  the  night  that  he 
wished  to  talk  with  me  in  the  morning  about  some  im- 
portant matter.  Formerly  I  should  have  disliked  the 
idea  of  this,  for  I  suppose  he  will  make  some  financial 
proposition.  Now  I  almost  wished  to  get  it  over  at  once ; 
but  I  wanted  to  be  alone  with  my  thoughts,  with  my 
happiness,  and  with  Aniela  in  my  heart  and  soul.  I 
pressed  her  hand  at  good-night  as  a  lover  might,  and  she 
returned  a  warm  pressure. 

"  Are  you  really  and  truly  mine  ?  "  I  said  inwardly. 


16  July. 

I  had  scarcely  finished  dressing  in  the  morning  when 
my  aunt  came  into  my  room,  and  after  wishing  me  good- 
morning  said,  without  any  preface,  — 

"  While  you  were  away  Kromitzki  made  me  a  proposal 
to  enter  into  partnership  with  him." 

"  And  what  answer  did  you  give  him  ?  " 

"  I  refused  point-blank.  I  said  to  him  :  ^  My  dear 
cousin,  thank  God,  I  have  as  much  as  I  want ;  and  after 
my  death  Leon  will  be  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in 
the  country.  Why  should  we  rush  into  adventures  and 
tempt  Providence  ?  If  you  make  millions  in  your  enter- 
prises, it  will  be  a  good  thing  for  you;  if  you  lose  your 
money,  why  should  we  lose  ours  with  you  ?  I  do  not 
know  anything  about  these  things,  and  am  not  in  the 
habit  of  undertaking  what  I  know  nothing  about.'  Was 
I  right  ?  " 

"  Very  much  so." 

*'  That  is  just  what  I  wanted  to  talk  over  with  you,  and 
I  am  glad  you  look  at  it  from  the  same  point  of  view. 
You  see,  he  was  a  little  offended  that  I  called  his  enter- 
prises adventures  ;  he  explained  everything  to  me,  never- 
theless, and  told  me  what  prospects  he  had  for  the  future. 
Then  I  asked  him,  straight  out,  why  he  wanted  a  part 


326  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

ner,  since  everything  was  going  on  so  well.  He  replied 
that  the  more  money  was  put  into  the  concern  the 
greater  would  be  the  profit;  that  out  there  everything 
was  done  on  a  great  scale,  and  he  would  rather  the  family 
shared  the  profits  than  strangers.  I  thanked  him  for  his 
family  sympathies,  but  repeated  my  refusal.  I  saw  that 
he  was  greatly  disappointed.  He  began  to  grumble  that 
nobody  in  the  country  had  any  brains  for  business ;  all 
they  were  capable  of  was  to  spend  what  they  had  got. 
He  said  in  plain  words  that  it  was  a  social  crime  not  to 
use  one's  capital  to  a  better  purpose.  Thereupon  I  became 
very  angry.  '  My  good  friend,'  I  said,  '  I  have  managed 
my  estate  I  dare  say  in  woman  fashion,  but  I  have  not 
lost  any  money ;  rather  I  have  increased  my  property ; 
and  as  to  social  crimes,  if  anybody  has  the  right  to  speak 
of  that,  it  is  certainly  not  you,  who  sold  Gluchow.  If  you 
wanted  to  hear  the  truth,  you  hear  it  now.  If  you  had 
not  sold  Gluchow,  I  should  have  trusted  you  more.  As 
to  your  enterprises,  it  is  not  only  I  that  know  nothing 
about  them,  but  others  too  are  equally  in  the  dark ;  one 
thing  is  quite  clear  to  me,  and  that  is  that  if  your  pros- 
pects were  as  brilliant  as  you  make  them  out,  you  would 
not  be  in  search  of  partners  or  feel  hurt  at  my  refusal. 
You  want  a  partner  because  you  cannot  do  without ;  you 
have  not  dealt  openly  with  me,  and  that  I  dislike  more 
than  anything  else.'  " 

*'  What  did  he  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  He  said  that  he  could  not  understand  why  he  should 
be  held  responsible  for  the  sale  of  Gluchow.  It  was  not 
he  who  had  let  the  estate  slip  through  his  fingers  ;  it  had 
been  slipping  gradually  through  the  hands  of  those  that 
had  administered  it  badly,  and  it  was  their  thoughtless- 
ness and  lavishness  that  had  made  the  sale  indispensable. 
Aniela  when  she  married  him  had  nothing  but  debts. 
He  had  saved  out  of  the  wreck  more  than  anybody  else 
could  have  done,  and  now  instead  of  gratitude  he  met 
with  reproaches  and  —  wait  a  bit,  what  word  did  he  use  ? 
—  yes,  and  *  pathetic  declamations.'  " 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  327 

"It  is  not  true,"  I  said;  "Gluchow  could  have  been 

saved." 

t 

"  I  said  the  same  to  him,  and  also  that  upon  Gluchow 
I  would  have  lent  him  the  money.  'You  might  have 
sent  me  word  through  Aniela,'  I  said  to  him,  *  about  the 
sale,  or  told  her  to  talk  it  over  with  me,  and  God  knows, 
I  would  have  made  any  sacrifice  to  save  the  property. 
But  such  is  your  method,  —  not  to  let  anybody  know 
what  you  are  doing.  We  all  believed  in  your  millions, 
and  that  is  the  reason  I  never  dreamed  of  offering  you 
any  pecuniary  help.'  He  laughed  ironically.  'Aniela,' 
he  said,  *  is  too  great  a  lady  and  far  too  lofty  to  stoop  to 
interest  herself  in  the  details  of  her  husband's  business. 
I  asked  her  twice  to  speak  to  you  about  the  partnership, 
and  both  times  she  refused  most  decidedly.  It  is  very 
easy  to  speak  about  saving  Gluchow  when  the  oppor- 
tunity is  gone.  Judging  by  the  reception  I  have  met 
with  to-day,  I  am  entitled  to  believe  that  it  would  have 
been  the  same  about  Gluchow.' " 

I  had  begun  to  listen  with  the  greatest  interest,  for 
now  I  saw  clearly  what  had  led  to  the  estrangement  be- 
tween Kromitzki  and  Aniela.     My  aunt  continued :  — 

"  When  I  heard  that  I  said  :  '  Now  you  see  how  little 
sincerity  there  is  in  what  you  told  me.  At  first  you  said 
that  you  proposed  the  partnership  in  order  that  the 
family  might  derive  the  benefit  of  it,  in  preference  to 
strangers,  and  now  it  turns  out  that  you  want  it  for  your 
own  sake.'  He  is  not  wanting  in  cleverness,  and  there- 
fore replied  at  once  that  in  this  kind  of  affairs  the  gain 
was  on  both  sides,  and  that  naturally  it  was  a  matter  of 
concern  to  him  to  have  as  much  capital  at  his  disposition 
as  he  could  get ;  for  in  this  kind  of  business  the  larger 
the  basis  it  rested  upon,  the  more  certain  the  profit.  '  Be- 
sides that,'  he  said,  '  taking  Aniela  without  any  money  I 
thought  I  might  count  upon  the  support  of  the  family, 
at  least  in  a  case  like  this,  when  the  help  would  turn  out 
a  clear  gain  to  the  family.'  He  was  very  cross,  especially 
when  I  told  him  he  had  not  taken  Aniela  without  any* 


328  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

thing,  as  it  had  always  been  my  intention  to  give  her  the 
life  interest  of  a  certain  sum." 

"You  told  him  that?" 

"  Yes.  I  told  him  all  that  was  uppermost  in  my  mind. 
'  I  love  Aniela,'  I  said,  '  as  if  she  were  my  own  child ; 
and  for  that  very  reason,  to  make  her  safe,  I  will  not 
leave  her  the  principal,  but  a  life  interest.  The  princi- 
pal might  be  swallowed  up  in  your  speculations,  which 
may  turn  out  God  knows  how ;  and  an  annual  income  wili 
give  Aniela  the  means  of  a  decent  establishment.  The 
principal,'  I  said,  '  will  go  to  your  children,  if  you  have 
any,  after  Aniela's  death ;  and  that  is  all  I  intend  to  do,  — 
which  of  course  does  not  exclude  any  smaller  services  I 
may  be  able  to  render  you.'  " 

"  And  that  ended  the  conversation  ?  " 

"  Almost.  I  saw  he  was  very  much  upset.  I  fancy 
he  was  especially  angry  because  I  promised  a  life  interest 
to  Aniela  instead  of  a  round  sum  down,  as  it  shows  how 
little  I  trust  him.  When  going  away  he  said  that  for 
the  future  he  would  look  for  partners  among  strangers, 
as  he  could  not  meet  with  less  good-will,  and  might  find 
a  better  understanding  of  business  matters.  I  meekly 
accepted  this  reproach.  Yesterday  he  went  for  an  ex- 
cursion with  the  Belgians  and  came  back  discontented, 
I  suppose  he  tried  it  on  with  them  and  met  with  a  dis- 
appointment. Do  you  know  what  I  think,  Leon  ?  His 
business  is  shaky,  since  he  is  so  anxious  to  get  partners. 
And  I  may  tell  you  that  the  thought  troubles  me  ;  for  if 
such  be  the  case  common-sense  tells  us  not  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  his  affairs ;  and  yet  the  simplest  family 
duty  bids  us  to  help  him,  if  only  for  Aniela's  sake.  That 
is  one  reason  why  I  was  so  anxious  to  talk  it  over  with 
you." 

"  His  affairs  are  not  in  such  a  desperate  state  as  you 
think,  aunty."  And  I  told  her  what  I  had  heard  from 
Chwastowski,  and  guessed  long  ago  from  Kromitzki's 
manner,  namely,  that  he  was  in  want  and  looking  about 
for  capital.  I  added  that  it  was  mainly  to  inquire  about 
the  state  of  his  affairs  that  I  had  gone  to  Vienna. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  329 

My  aunt  was  delighted  with  my  tactics  and  perspi- 
cacity ;  and  walking  up  and  down  the  room  according  to 
her  habit  she  muttered  to  herself,  "  He  is  a  genius  in 
everything."  She  finally  decided  to  leave  everything  in 
my  hands,  and  to  act  as  I  thought  best.  Upon  this,  she 
went  below,  and  I,  after  perusing  yesterday's  papers  for 
half  an  hour,  followed  her. 

I  found  the  whole  company  gathered  round  the  break- 
fast table,  and  one  glance  was  sufficient  to  tell  me  that 
something  unusual  had  taken  place.  Aniela  looked 
frightened,  Pani  Celina  troubled,  and  my  aunt  was 
flushed  with  anger.  Only  Kromitzki  was  quietly  read- 
ing the  paper,  but  he  looked  cross,  and  his  face  was  as 
yellow  as  if  he  had  been  ill. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  my  aunt,  pointing  at  Aniela, 
"what  news  she  has  brought  me  as  a  morning's 
greeting  ?  " 

"  No,  what  is  it  ? "  I  said,  sitting  down  at  the  table. 

"  Nothing  more  nor  less  than  that  in  two  weeks,  Celina's 
health  permitting,  they  are  both  going  to  Odessa  or  some- 
where farther  still." 

If  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  in  the  middle  of  the  table, 
I  could  not  have  been  more  startled.  My  heart  sank 
within  me.  I  looked  at  Aniela,  who  had  grown  very  red, 
as  if  caught  in  the  act  of  committing  a  wrong  deed,  and 
at  last  asked,  "  Where  are  they  going  ?  why  ?  " 

"  They  give  me  a  deal  of  trouble  at  Ploszow,  you  know," 
said  my  aunt,  imitating  Aniela's  voice.  "  They  do  not 
want  to  be  a  burden  to  me,  the  charitable  souls.  They 
evidently  think  I  yearn  after  solitude ;  and  in  case  you 
went  away  too,  it  would  be  ever  so  much  better,  more 
cheerful  for  me,  to  be  by  myself  in  that  big  house.  They 
have  discussed  this  all  the  night,  instead  of  sleeping  like 
other  respectable  people." 

My  aunt  waxed  angrier  still,  and  turning  upon  Kro- 
mitzki asked :  "  Did  you  preside  at  that  debate  ?  " 

"Not  at  all,"  he  replied;  "I  was  never  even  con- 
sulted.   But  if  my  wife  has  resolved  to  go,  I  suppose  it 


330  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

is  in  order  to  be  nearer  me,  for  which  I  ought  to  feel 

grateful." 

"  There  is  nothing  settled  yet,"  remarked  Aniela. 

I,  forgetting  all  precautions,  looked  steadily  at  her, 
but  she  did  not  lift  her  eyes ;  which  convinced  me  all  the 
more  that  I  was  the  cause  of  this  sudden  resolve.  I  can- 
not find  words  to  express  what  I  felt  at  that  moment, 
and  what  deadly  bitterness  suffused  my  heart.  Aniela 
knows  perfectly  that  I  live  for  her  only,  exist  through 
her ;  that  all  my  thoughts  belong  to  her,  my  actions  have 
only  her  in  view  •,  that  she  is  to  me  an  issue  of  life  and 
death ;  and  in  spite  of  all  that  she  calmly  decides  to  go 
away.  Whether  I  should  perish  or  beat  my  head  against 
the  wall,  she  never  so  much  as  considered.  She  will  be 
more  at  ease  when  she  ceases  to  see  me  writhing  like  a 
beetle  stuck  on  a  pin  ;  she  will  be  no  longer  afraid  of  my 
kissing  her  feet  furtively,  or  startling  that  virtuous  con- 
science. How  can  she  hesitate  when  such  excellent 
peace  can  be  got,  at  so  small  a  price  as  cutting  some- 
body's throat !  Thoughts  like  these  spun  across  my 
brain  by  thousands.  I  felt  a  bitter  taste  in  my  mouth. 
*'  You  are  virtuous,"  I  said  inwardly  to  Aniela,  "  because 
you  have  no  heart.  If  a  dog  attached  himself  to  you  as 
I  am  attached,  something  would  be  due  to  him.  You 
have  never  shown  me  any  indulgence,  or  any  spark  of 
pity ;  you  have  never  confessed  to  me  any  tender  feeling, 
and  you  have  taken  from  me  what  you  could.  If  you 
were  able,  you  would  deprive  me  of  your  presence  alto- 
gether, —  although  you  had  the  certainty  that  if  I  could 
not  see  you  my  eyes  would  perish  forever.  But  I  begin 
to  understand  you  now,  begin  to  see  that  your  inflexi- 
bility is  so  great  because  your  heart  is  so  small.  You  are 
cold  and  unfeeling,  and  your  virtue  is  nothing  but  an 
enormous  egoism,  that  wants  above  everything  to  be  left 
undisturbed,  and  for  that  peace  is  capable  of  sacrificing 
all  else." 

During  the  whole  time  of  breakfast  I  did  not  say  a 
word.    When  alone  in  my  own  room  I  held  my  head 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  331 

with  both  hands  and  with  a  weary,  over-wrought  brain, 
began  to  think  again  of  what  had  happened.  My  thoughts 
were  still  very  bitter.  Women  of  narrow  hearts  often 
remain  unyielding  through  a  certain  philistinism  of  vir- 
tue. The  first  thing  with  them  is  to  keep  their  accounts 
in  order,  like  any  tradesman.  They  fear  love,  as  the 
grocer  fears  street-risings,  war,  riots,  exalted  ideas,  and 
audacious  flights  of  fancy.  Peace  at  any  price,  because 
peace  is  good  for  business.  Everything  that  rises  above 
the  rational  and  commonplace  standard  of  life  is  bad, 
and  deserves  the  contempt  of  reasonable  beings.  Virtue 
has  its  heights  and  precipices,  but  also  its  level  plains. 

I  now  struggled  with  the  exceedingly  painful  question 
whether  Aniela  did  not  belong  to  that  kind  of  common- 
place virtuous  women,  who  want  to  keep  their  accounts 
in  order,  and  reject  love  because  it  reaches  above  the  or- 
dinary standard  of  their  hearts  and  minds.  I  searched 
in  the  past  for  proofs.  "  Who  knows,"  I  said  to  myself, 
"  whether  her  simple  ethical  code  is  not  resting  upon 
such  a  foundation  ?  "  I  had  believed  her  to  be  one  of 
those  exceptional  natures,  different  from  all  other  women, 
inaccessible  as  the  snowy  heights  of  the  Alj)s  that  without 
any  slope  soar  straight  heavenward.  And  now  this  lofty 
nature  considers  it  the  most  proper  thing  that  a  husband 
in  slippers  should  trample  on  those  snows.  What  does 
it  all  mean  ?  Whenever  thoughts  like  these  crowd  my 
brain  I  feel  as  if  I  were  on  the  brink  of  madness  ;  such 
a  rage  seizes  me  that  if  I  could  I  would  throw  down, 
trample,  and  spit  upon  the  forces  of  life,  reduce  the 
whole  world  to  chaos  and  obliterate  its  existence.  On 
my  journey  back  from  Vienna  I  was  searching  for  some 
unearthly  abode  where  I  might  love  Aniela  even  as 
Dante  loved  Beatrice.  I  built  it  of  the  sufferings  from 
which  as  from  fire  my  love  had  risen  purified,  of  my  re- 
nunciations and  sacrifices,  and  thought  that  in  a  super- 
human, simply  angelic  way  she  would  be  mine,  and  feel 
that  she  belonged  to  me.  And  now  it  came  into  my 
thoughts  that  it  was  not  worth  while  to  speak  about  it, 


332  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

as  she  would  not  understand  me ;  not  worth  while  lead- 
ing her  on  to  those  heights,  as  she  would  not  be  able 
to  breathe  there.  She  might  agree,  in  her  soul,  that  I 
should  go  on  loving  her,  go  on  suffering,  since  that  flat- 
ters her  vanity ;  but  no  compact,  no  union  the  most 
spiritual,  no  mutual  belonging  even  in  the  Dantesque 
meaning,  —  to  none  of  these  will  she  agree,  because  she 
understands  only  one  belonging  and  one  right,  which  is 
expressed  in  a  man's  dressing-gown,  and  her  soul  cannot 
rise  above  the  narrow,  mean,  matrimonial,  book-keeping 
spirit. 

I  felt  an  overwhelming  regret  that  I  had  not  been  in 
the  wrecked  train.  The  regret  was  as  much  the  result 
of  physical  exhaustion  as  of  Aniela's  cruelty.  I  was 
tired,  as  one  who  has  watched  night  after  night  at  the 
sick  bed  of  a  very  dear  friend,  and  to  whom  death  ap- 
pears as  a  desired  rest.  And  then  I  thought  that  if  they 
had  brought  my  mangled  remains  to  Gastein  something 
would  perhaps  have  stirred  in  her.  Thinking  of  this  I 
siiddenly  remembered  yesterday's  Aniela,  who  went  with 
my  aunt  in  seaxch  of  me.  I  recalled  to  my  mind  the 
sudden  terror  and  the  joy  close  upon  it,  those  eyes  full 
of  tears,  the  disordered  hair ;  and  love  immeasurable, 
love  a  hundred  times  more  real  than  all  my  thoughts  and 
reasonings  took  possession  of  me.  It  was  like  a  great 
convulsive  motion  of  the  heart,  which  almost  at  once 
got  buried  in  a  wave  of  doubts.  All  I  had  noticed  that 
day  might  be  explained  upon  quite  different  grounds. 
Who  knows  whether  it  was  I  or  my  aunt  who  played  the 
principal  part  in  this  emotion  ?  Besides  impressionable 
women  have  always  a  store  of  sympathy  at  command, 
even  for  the  merest  stranger.  What  more  natural  than 
that  she  should  exhibit  some  feeling  when  he  who  was 
threatened  by  some  danger  was  a  relative  ?  She  would 
naturally  be  horrified  at  the  thought  of  my  death,  and 
rejoice  at  seeing  me  alive.  If,  instead  of  her.  Pani  Snia- 
tynska  had  been  staying  with  my  aunt,  she  too  would 
have  been  terror-stricken,  and  I  should  have  seen  her 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  3S3 

without  her  gloves,  and  her  hair  in  disorder.  No,  in  re- 
gard to  that  I  cannot  delude  myself  any  longer.  Aniela 
knew  very  well  that  her  departure  would  be  to  me  a 
more  dangerous  catastrophe  than  a  wound  on  my  head 
or  the  loss  of  an  arm  or  leg ;  and  yet  she  did  not  hesi- 
tate a  moment,  I  was  perfectly  aware  that  it  was  all 
her  doing.  She  wanted  to  be  near  her  husband,  and 
what  would  become  of  me  was  not  taken  into  account. 

Again  I  felt  myself  growing  pale  with  anger,  hatred, 
and  indignation,  and  only  one  step  removed  from 
madness.  "  Stop  a  little,"  I  said  to  myself,  pressing 
both  hands  against  my  temples ;  "  perhaps  she  is  seeking 
safety  in  tlight  because  she  loves  you,  and  feels  she 
cannot  resist  any  longer."  Ah  me  !  and  these  thoughts 
sprung  up,  but  they  did  not  find  any  congenial  soil  and 
perished  like  the  seed  sown  on  a  rock ;  they  only  roused 
a  bitter,  despairing  irony,  "  Yes,"  something  said  within 
me,  "hers  is  a  love  resembling  the  compassion  which 
makes  people  remove  the  pillow  from  under  the  dying 
man's  head,  to  shorten  his  agony.  I  shall  not  suffer 
much  longer,  and  Zromitzki  will  be  able  to  see  her  often 
and  bring  her  such  comfort  as  a  wife  expects  from  her 
husband." 

Aniela  at  that  moment  was  hateful  to  me.  For  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  wished  she  really  loved  Kromitzki ; 
she  would  have  been  less  repugnant  to  me.  Anger  and 
resentment  almost  deprived  me  of  my  senses,  and  I  saw 
clearly  that  if  I  did  not  do  something,  revenge  myself 
upon  her  in  some  way,  something  terrible  would  happen 
to  me.  I  jumped  up,  and  under  the  influence  of  that 
thought,  as  if  touched  by  a  red-hot  iron,  I  took  my  hat 
and  went  forth  in  search  of  Kromitzki.  I  did  not  find 
him  either  in  the  house  or  in  the  garden.  I  went  to  the 
Wandelbahn,  then  to  the  reading-rooms ;  he  was  in  nei- 
ther of  the  two  places.  I  stopped  for  a  moment  on  the 
bridge  near  the  Cascades,  thinking  what  to  do  next.  The 
wind  coming  from  that  direction  blew  a  cloud  of  spray 
into  my  face.    This  caused  me  a  pleasant  sensation  and 


334  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

relieved  the  tension  of  my  nerves.  I  bared  my  head  and 
exposed  it  to  the  spray  until  my  hair  was  quite  wet.  I 
felt  a  purely  animal  delight  in  the  coolness.  I  had  re- 
gained all  my  self-possession.  There  remained  now  only 
the  distinct  and  decided  wish  to  thwart  Aniela.  I  said 
to  her,  *'  You  shall  not  be  allowed  to  go  away,  and  hence- 
forth I  will  treat  you  as  a  man  who  has  paid  for  you  with 
his  money."  I  saw  the  way  clear  before  me,  and  was  not 
afraid  of  making  any  mistakes  in  dealing  with  Kromitzki. 
I  found  him  outside  Straubinger's  hotel  reading  the  paper. 
When  he  saw  me  he  dropped  his  eyeglass  and  said :  — 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  going  to  look  for  you." 

"Let  us  go  on  the  Kaiserweg." 

And  we  went.  Not  waiting  for  him  to  begin,  I  plunged 
at  once  into  the  subject. 

"My  aunt  told  me  about  your  conversation  with  her 
yesterday,"  I  said. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  it  took  place  at  all,"  replied  Kro- 
mitzki. 

"As  far  as  I  can  judge,  you  were  both  not  as  calm  as 
one  ought  to  be  in  treating  affairs  of  that  kind.  My 
dear  fellow,  I  will  be  open  with  you,  and  tell  you  at 
once  that  you  do  not  know  my  aunt.  She  is  the  dearest 
woman  in  the  world,  but  she  has  one  weakness.  Pos- 
sessed of  a  great  deal  of  common-sense  and  shrewdness, 
she  likes  to  assert  them ;  therefore  any  new  scheme  or 
proposition  is  met  by  her  with  a  certain  almost  exagger- 
ated suspicion.  For  that  reason  she  invariably  refuses  at 
first  to  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  Chwastowski,  her 
manager,  might  tell  you  something  about  that.  In  dealing 
with  her  it  is  always  best  to  suggest  a  thing  and  leave 
her  time  to  digest  it ;  and  besides,  you  rubbed  her  the 
wrong  way,  and  that  makes  her  always  more  determined ; 
a  pity  you  could  not  have  avoided  that." 

"  But  how  could  I  have  irritated  her  ?  If  anybody 
it  is  I  who  should  be  able  to  discuss  matters  of  this 
kind." 

"  You  made  a  mistake  in  saying  that  you  had  married 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  335 

Aniela  without  a  dowry ;  she  is  still  very  angry  about 
that." 

"  I  said  it  when  she  threw  the  sale  of  Gluchow  in  my 
teeth.  Besides  I  only  spoke  the  truth  ;  Gluchow  was  so 
encumbered  that  next  to  nothing  really  belonged  to 
Aniela." 

"Plainly  speaking,  what  induced  you  to  sell  that  un- 
fortunate estate  ? " 

"  Because  by  doing  so  I  was  able  to  do  a  good  turn  to 
somebody  upon  whom  my  future  career  depends  to  a 
great  extent ;  besides,  he  paid  more  than  I  could  have 
got  from  anybody  else." 

"  Well,  let  that  pass.  ]\[y  aunt  felt  all  the  more  hurt 
as  she  has  some  intentions  in  regard  to  Aniela." 

"Yes,  I  know.  She  is  going  to  leave  her  a  yearly 
income." 

"  Between  ourselves,  I  tell  you  that  she  thinks  of  no 
such  thing.  I  know  she  spoke  to  you  about  a  life  inter- 
est, because  she  was  angry  and  wanted  to  let  you  feel 
that  she  mistrusted  your  business  capacities.  I  as  her 
heir  ought  to  know  something  about  her  intentions,  es- 
pecially as  she  does  nothing  without  consulting  me." 

Kromitzki  looked  at  me  keenly.  "Anything  she  is 
doing  for  Aniela,"  he  said,  "  would  be  against  your  in- 
terest as  the  heir." 

"  Yes,  that  is  so ;  but  I  do  not  spend  even  my  income, 
consequently  I  can  speak  about  it  quite  calmly.  If  you 
cannot  explain  it  any  other  way,  consider  it  as  a  whim  of 
mine.  There  are  such  people  in  the  world.  I  may  tell 
you  that  I  do  not  intend  to  put  any  limit  to  my  aunt's 
generosity,  and  also  that  she  intends  to  give  Aniela,  not 
the  life  interest  she  spoke  about,  but  the  capital.  Of 
course  my  influence  might  turn  the  scale  either  way,  but 
I  do  not  intend  to  exert  it  against  you." 

Kromitzki  squeezed  my  hand  with  effusion,  and  his 
shoulders  moved  exactly  like  those  of  a  wooden  mani- 
kin. How  repulsive  the  man  is  to  me !  I  suppose  he 
considered  me  more  of  a  fool  than  an  oddity;  but  he 


336  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

believed  me,  and  that  was  all  I  wanted.  He  is  quite 
right  as  to  that,  for  I  was  decided  that  Aniela  should 
have  the  capital  instead  of  only  a  life  interest.  I  saw 
that  he  was  consumed  with  curiosity  to  know  how  much 
and  when  ;  but  he  understood  that  it  would  not  do  to 
show  liis  hand  so  openly,  and  therefore  remained  silent 
as  if  from  emotion.     I  continued:  — 

"  You  must  remember  one  thing,  my  aunt  wants  care- 
ful  handling.  I  know  for  certain  that  she  means  to  pro- 
vide for  Aniela;  but  it  all  depends  on  her  will,  and  even 
her  humor.  In  the  mean  while,  what  is  it  you  both  are 
doing  ?  Yesterday  you  made  her  angry,  and  to-day 
Aniela  vexed  her  still  more.  As  the  future  heir  I  ought 
to  rejoice  at  your  blunders,  and  not  warn  you,  and  yet 
you  see  I  am  doing  the  opposite.  My  aunt  was  deeply 
hurt  by  Aniela's  plan,  and  in  her  anger  turned  upon  you, 
hoping,  I  fancy,  that  you  would  take  her  side  ;  but  you, 
on  the  contrary,  supported  them  ! " 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  Kromitzki,  squeezing  my  hand 
again,  "  I  will  tell  you  openly  that  I  agreed  to  their  plan 
because  I  was  vexed  with  your  aunt,  and  that  is  the  top 
and  bottom  of  it.  There  is  no  sense  in  it  at  all.  I  cannot 
stand  exaltation,  and  both  these  women  are  full  of  it. 
They  always  seem  to  think  they  ought  not  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  your  aunt's  hospitality,  that  they  cannot 
always  remain  at  Ploszow,  and  so  on,  ad  infinituvi.  I 
am  heartily  sick  of  it.  In  the  mean  while  it  is  this  way : 
I  cannot  take  them  with  me  to  Turkestan,  and  when  I 
am  there  it  is  all  the  same  to  me  whether  they  are  at 
Odessa  or  at  Warsaw.  When  I  wind  up  my  affairs, 
with  a  more  than  considerable  fortune,  I  hope  I  shall 
give  them,  of  course,  an  adequate  home.  That  will  take 
place  in  a  year  at  the  latest.  The  sale  of  the  business 
itself  will  bring  in  a  considerable  sura.  If  they  were 
not  at  Ploszow,  I  should  have  to  look  out  for  some  other 
place ;  but  since  your  aunt  offers  her  house  and  is  pleased 
to  have  them,  it  would  be  folly  not  to  accept  the  offer. 
My  mother-in-law  has  only  just  recovered  from  her  ill- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  337 

ness.  Who  knows  what  might  happen  in  the  future  ? 
and  if  things  went  wrong,  Aniela,  young  and  inexperi- 
enced as  she  is,  would  be  alone  with  all  these  troubles. 
I  simply  cannot  remain  with  them ;  even  now  I  am  in  a 
fever  to  be  off,  and  only  delayed  my  departure  in  the 
hope  that  I  might  persuade  you  or  your  aunt  into  a 
partnership.  Now  I  have  told  you  all  that  is  in  my 
mind;  and  it  is  your  turn  to  tell  me  whether  I  may 
count  upon  your  good-will." 

I  breathed  again.  Aniela's  scheme  was  reduced  to 
nothing.  I  was  delighted  because  I  had  got  what  I 
wanted.  Although  my  love  for  Aniela  was  akin  to  deep 
hatred,  it  was  all  I  had  to  live  for,  and  it  wanted  food ; 
and  this  it  would  get  only  from  Aniela's  presence.  From 
Kromitzki's  words  I  concluded  that  by  one  stroke  I  could 
gain  the  most  wished  for  end,  —  Kromitzki's  departure 
for  an  almost  unlimited  time.  I  remained  impassive, 
and  thought  it  more  advisable  to  show  myself  a  little 
reluctant. 

"  I  cannot,"  I  said,  "  give  you  any  promise  beforehand. 
Tell  me  first  exactly  how  you  stand." 

He  began  to  talk,  and  talked  with  great  volubility, 
showing  that  once  embarked  upon  this  theme,  he  felt 
himself  in  his  proper  element.  Now  and  then  he  paused 
to  buttonhole  me  or  press  me  against  the  rocks.  When 
he  had  said  something  he  though  very  convincing,  he 
swiftly  screwed  his  eyeglass  into  his  eye  and  scrutinized 
my  face  to  see  what  impression  he  had  made  upon  me. 
This,  added  to  his  voice,  which  was  like  the  sound  of 
creaking  hinges,  and  the  reiteration  of  his  "  what,  what," 
was  very  trying  to  my  nerves,  but  I  must  render  him 
justice ;  he  did  not  try  to  deceive  me.  He  told  me  sub- 
stantially the  same  things  that  I  had  heard  from  Chwas- 
towski.  The  affair  stood  thus ;  Great  capital  had  already 
been  invested  in  material,  the  purveying  of  which  was 
solely  in  Kromitzki's  hands.  The  danger  of  the  business 
consisted  in  the  fact  that  the  capital  already  sunk  came 
back  to  him  only  after  passing  through  various  official 

22 


338  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

forms,  therefore  very  slowly;  and  also  in  the  fact  that 
Kromitzki  had  to  deal  with  purveyors  whose  interest  it 
was  to  supply  him  with  the  very  worst  materials,  for 
which  he  was  held  responsible.  This  last  point  put  him 
more  or  less  at  the  mercy  of  the  agency,  which  besides 
had  the  most  complete  right  to  accept  only  good  material. 
Who  knows  what  complications  might  arise  from  that  ? 
After  having  listened  to  his  statement,  which  lasted  an 
hour,  I  replied :  — 

"  My  good  fellow,  considering  all  you  have  told  me, 
neither  my  aunt  nor  I  can  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
partnership." 

His  countenance  fell,  and  he  turned  very  yellow.  "  Tell 
me  why,"  he  said. 

"  If  you,  in  spite  of  cautiousness  and  care,  are  in  danger 
of  lawsuits,  we  will  not  be  mixed  up  in  your  affairs." 

"Looking  at  things  in  that  way,  nobody  would  embark 
in  any  business  at  all." 

"  There  is  no  necessity  for  us  to  do  so.  But  supposing 
we  entered  into  any  partnership,  how  much  would  you 
want  us  to  put  into  the  business  ?  " 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  speak  of  that  now ;  but  if  you 
could  have  come  into  it,  let  us  say  with  seventy-five 
thousand  roubles  —  " 

"  No,  we  will  not  put  anything  into  the  business ;  we 
do  not  think  it  advisable  to  do  so.  But  as  you  are  con- 
nected with  our  family,  we  will  help  you  in  another  way. 
In  brief,  I  will  lend  you  the  sum  you  mentioned  upon  a 
note  of  hand." 

Kromitzki  stopped,  looked  at  me,  and  blinked  as  one 
who  is  not  fully  awake.  But  this  lasted  only  a  moment. 
He  evidently  thought  it  would  not  be  wise  to  show  too 
great  a  delight,  —  a  mercantile  caution  not  at  all  necessary, 
and  ridiculous  under  present  circumstances.  He  only 
pressed  my  hand  and  said  :  "  Thank  you,  —  at  what  rate 
of  interest  ?  " 

"  We  will  talk  of  that  later  on.  I  must  go  back  now 
and  talk  with  my  aunt." 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  339 

1  said  good-by  at  once.  On  the  way  I  reflected  whether 
Kromitzki  would  not  think  my  acting  thus  a  little  curi- 
ous and  open  to  suspicion.  But  it  was  a  vain  fear.  Hus- 
bands are  proverbially  blind,  not  because  they  love  and 
trust  their  wives,  but  because  they  love  themselves.  Be- 
sides, Kromitzki,  looking  at  us  from  his  business  point 
of  view,  considers  me  and  my  aimt  as  two  fantastic  be- 
ings, who,  with  little  knowledge  of  practical  matters,  stick 
to  antiquated  notions  about  family  ties  and  duties.  He 
is,  indeed,  in  many  respects  of  such  an  altogether  dif- 
ferent type  from  us,  that  we  cannot  help  looking  upon 
him  as  an  intruder. 

When  I  came  back  to  the  villa  I  saw  Aniela  at  the  gate 
buying  wild  strawberries  from  a  peasant  woman.  Pass- 
ing close  by,  I  said  roughly,  "  You  will  not  go  away, 
because  I  do  not  wish  it,"  and  then  went  up  into  my 
room. 

During  dinner  the  conversation  again  turned  upon  the 
departure  of  the  ladies.  This  time  Kromitzki  spoke  up 
and  treated  the  whole  thing  as  a  childish  whim,  to  be 
laughed  at  by  sensible  people.  He  was  not  very  con- 
siderate either  to  his  wife  or  his  mother-in-law,  but  then 
his  nature  is  not  a  refined  one.  I  did  not  say  anything, 
—  as  if  the  question  of  their  going  or  staying  mattered 
very  little  to  me.  But  I  noticed  that  Aniela  was  con- 
scious that  her  husband  acted  as  a  mere  puppet  in  my 
hands,  and  she  felt  ashamed  for  him  and  deeply  humili- 
ated; but  such  was  the  resentment  I  had  towards  her 
that  the  sight  of  it  did  me  good. 

For  in  truth  I  was  deeply  wounded,  and  I  cannot  for- 
give Aniela.  If,  on  the  way  from  Vienna,  I  had  not 
thought  so  much  of  that  new  compact,  if  I  had  not  made 
a  wholesale  sacrifice  of  all  my  desires,  passions,  and 
senses,  in  fact  of  my  whole  nature,  I  should  not  have 
felt  the  disappointment  so  acutely.  But  it  fell  out  so 
cruelly  that,  when,  out  of  love  for  her,  I  was  ready  to 
change  my  whole  being,  when  I  climbed  to  a  height  I 
had  never  reached  before,  only  to  be  near  her,  she,  with- 


HO  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

out  any  consideration  or  pity  for  me,  wished  to  push  me 
into  the  very  depth  of  despair  and  without  consider- 
ing for  a  moment  what  would  become  of  me  !  These 
thoughts  poison  even  the  pleasure  afforded  by  Kro- 
mitzki's  departure. 

The  future  will  bring  some  kind  of  solution,  but  I  am 
too  tired  to  speculate  upon  it.  The  simplest  solution 
would  be  inflammation  of  the  brain.  It  will  come  to 
that.  I  torment  myself  all  the  day,  do  not  sleep  at 
night,  smoke  endless  cigars  to  stupefy  myself,  and  sit 
up  till  daylight. 


30  July. 

I  have  not  written  in  my  diary  for  two  weeks.  I  went 
with  Kromitzki  to  Vienna  to  conclude  his  business  ;  after 
which  he  remained  three  days  and  then  left  for  the  East. 
I  had  such  violent  headaches  that  I  could  not  write. 
Pani  Celina's  cure  is  completed,  but  we  still  remain  at 
Gastein  because  of  the  great  heat. 

Kromitzki's  departure  was  a  great  relief  to  me,  to 
Pani  Celina,  —  whom  he  irritates  to  such  a  degree  that 
if  he  were  not  her  son-in-law  she  could  not  stand  him  at 
all,  —  and  perhaps  also  to  Aniela.  The  latter  cannot 
forgive  him  that  he  involved  me  in  his  affairs.  He,  not 
supposing  there  could  be  anything  between  me  and  his 
wife  except  social  relations,  made  no  secret  of  the  loan. 
She  opposed  it  energetically,  but  could  not  tell  him  the 
reason,  —  perhaps  from  a  secret  fear  that  after  an  ex- 
planation he  might  compel  her  to  remain  where  she  is, 
and  thus  destroy  the  last  shred  of  respect  she  has  for 
him.  I  am  almost  sure  that  since  the  sale  of  Gluchow, 
both  she  and  her  mother  distrust  him,  and  in  the  secrecy 
of  their  hearts  consider  him  worse  than  he  really  is.  In 
my  opinion  he  is  a  spiritual  upstart,  with  a  dry  and 
wooden  disposition,  and  incapable  of  any  fine  feeling  or 
subtle  thought.      There  is   no   generosity  in   him;   his 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  341 

mind  is  neither  deep,  noble,  nor  sensitive;  but  in  the 
general  acceptance  of  the  word  he  is  a  decent  member 
of  society.  A  certain  natural  pedantry  aids  him  in  this, 
which  harmonizes  with  his  money-making  neurosis,  —  a 
degenerated  imaginativeness  seeking  expression  in  finan- 
cial adventure.  Taking  him  all  in  all,  he  is  so  intensely 
repulsive  to  me  —  with  his  eyeglass,  oblique  eyes,  long 
legs,  and  sallow,  hairless  face  —  that  I  doubt  if  I  am 
capable  of  judging  him  objectively.  Nevertheless  I  am 
quite  sure  that  unless  he  loses  his  own  money  I  shall  not 
lose  mine.  But  I  put  it  down,  in  all  sincerity,  that  I 
would  rather  he  lost  the  money,  his  senses,  his  life,  and 
went  altogether  to  perdition. 

I  am  ill.  I  have  seen  very  little  of  Aniela  lately,— 
partly  by  reason  of  my  headaches,  that  kept  me  confined 
to  my  room,  and  partly  because  I  wished  to  let  her  feel 
how  deeply  she  had  injured  and  grieved  me.  Not  to  see 
her  cost  me  great  self-denial,  for  my  eyes  want  her  as 
they  want  the  light.  I  have  already  mentioned  that 
with  all  her  inflexibility,  she  has  a  certain  weakness  :  she 
cannot  bear  that  anybody  should  be  angry  with  her ;  it 
frightens  her,  and  she  tries  her  best  to  conciliate  those 
that  are  angry.  She  is  then  meek,  sweet  tempered,  and 
looks  into  one's  eyes  with  the  pleading  expression  of  a 
child  who  is  afraid  to  be  punished.  This  always  moved 
me  deeply  and  was  my  delight,  as  it  kept  up  the  delusion 
that  I  had  only  to  open  my  arms  and  she  would  fall  upon 
my  neck,  if  only  to  soften  my  resentment.  I  cannot  get 
rid  altogether  of  this  delusion,  although  convinced  of  its 
futility ;  and  even  now  I  cherish  some  hope  in  a  corner 
of  my  heart  that  when  we  come  to  make  it  up,  something 
will  happen  between  us,  —  she  will  make  a  kind  of  sub- 
mission and  will  draw  closer  to  me.  On  the  other  hand 
I  see  in  this  mutual  irritation  a  tacit  acknowledgment  on 
the  part  of  Aniela  that  I  have  the  right  to  love  her ;  for 
if  she  admits  the  resentment  springing  from  love,  she 
must  admit  the  love  itself.  It  is  a  shadowy  right,  dim 
and  vague  as  a  dream,  without  shape  or  substance  5  yet 


342  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

I  cling  to  it,  for  it  saves  me   from  utter  apathy  and 
hopelessness. 


2  August. 

I  have  received  another  letter  from  Clara  Hilst.  She 
must  have  divined  something ;  there  is  much  pity  and 
sympathy  in  her  words,  as  if  she  knew  how  wretched  I 
am.  I  do  not  know  and  do  not  want  to  know,  whether 
she  loves  me  as  a  sister  or  otherwise,  I  only  feel  that  she 
loves  me.  I  answered  her  letter  in  the  same  hearty  spirit, 
grateful  for  her  friendliness.  She  is  going  to  Berlin  now, 
and  promises  her  appearance  in  Warsaw  for  the  winter. 
She  wants  me  to  come  to  Berlin,  if  only  for  a  few  days. 
I  will  not  go  to  Berlin,  will  not  part  from  my  troubles, 
but  shall  be  glad  to  see  her  again  at  Warsaw.  With 
Aniela  I  speak  only  of  indifferent  subjects,  so  as  not  to 
draw  the  attention  of  the  elder  ladies  to  the  state  of 
things  between  us.  When  alone  we  are  both  silent.  I 
noticed  several  times  that  she  was  about  to  say  some- 
thing, but  seemed  afraid ;  as  regards  myself  I  could  only 
say,  "  I  love  you ; "  and  even  that  seems  inadequate  to 
express  my  feelings. 

There  is  now  resentment  in  my  love.  The  thought  is 
troubling  my  mind  that  she  has  a  narrow  heart,  and  that 
in  this  lies  the  secret  of  her  unyieldingness.  To-day, 
when  I  come  to  think  it  over  more  calmly,  I  go  back  to 
the  conviction  that  she  has  some  feeling  for  me,  composed 
of  gratitude,  pity,  and  memories  of  the  past ;  but  it  has 
no  active  power,  cannot  rise  above  prejudice, —  even  to  the 
avowal  of  its  existence.  It  does  not  respect  itself,  hides, 
is  ashamed  of  itself,  and  in  comparison  with  mine  is  as 
the  mustard-seed  to  those  Alps  which  surround  us.  From 
Aniela  one  may  expect  that  she  will  restrict  it  rather 
than  let  it  grow.  It  is  of  no  use  to  hope  or  watch  for 
anything  from  her  5  that  conviction  makes  me  very 
wretched. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  343 


4  August. 

Some  time  ago  I  had  a  faint  hope  that  under  the  in- 
fluence of  indignation  against  her  husband,  Aniela  might 
come  to  me  and  say :  "  Since  you  have  paid  for  me,  I 
am  yours."  Another  of  my  delusions.  Any  other  woman, 
with  exalted  notions  fed  upon  French  novels,  might  have 
acted  thus  ;  or  one  who  wanted  only  a  pretext  to  throw  her- 
self into  a  lover's  arms.  No  ;  Aniela  will  never  do  that, 
and  if  such  a  thought  came  into  my  mind  at  all  it  is  because 
I  too  have  been  fed  upon  those  pseudo-dramas  of  the 
feminine  soul,  which  at  bottom  illustrate  only  the  desire 
to  cast  virtue  adrift.  There  is  but  one  thing  which  would 
push  Aniela  into  my  arms,  and  that  is  her  heart ;  but  no 
artificial  scenes,  no  phrases  or  false  pathos.  There  is 
not  the  slightest  possibility  of  her  yielding  to  these. 

If  it  be  a  great  misfortune  to  love  another  man's  wife, 
be  she  ever  so  commonplace,  it  is  an  infinitely  greater 
misfortune  to  love  a  virtuous  woman.  There  is  something 
in  my  relations  to  Aniela  of  which  I  never  heard  or  read ; 
there  is  no  getting  out  of  it,  no  end.  A  solution,  whether 
it  be  a  calamity  or  the  fulfilment  of  desire,  is  something, 
but  this  is  only  an  enchanted  circle.  If  she  remain  im- 
movable and  I  do  not  cease  loving  her,  it  will  be  an  ever- 
lasting torment,  and  nothing  else.  And  I  have  the 
despairing  conviction  that  neither  of  us  will  give  way. 

If  she  has  a  narrow  heart  it  will  not  trouble  her  very 
much.  As  to  myself  I  desire  nothing  more  ardently  than 
to  get  free  from  bondage ;  but  I  cannot  get  free.  I  say 
to  myself,  over  and  over  again,  that  it  must  be  done ;  and 
I  put  forth  all  my  strength,  as  the  drowning  man  does  to 
save  himself.  At  times  I  fancy  that  I  have  achieved 
some  kind  of  victory,  when  lo !  I  see  her  passing  under 
my  window,  my  eyes  rest  upon  her,  and  I  experience  a 
shock  in  my  heart ;  the  whole  depth  of  my  feeling  is 
revealed,  as  the  flash  of  lightning  tears  asunder  the  clouds 
and  shows  the  depth  of  the  sky.  Ah  me  !  what  torture 
to  have  to  deal  with  virtue,  cold  and  merciless  as  the 


344  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

letter  of  the  law !  Even  if  Aniela  had  no  heart  I  should 
still  love  her,  as  a  mother  would  love  a  child  thougli  it 
were  deformed.  Pity  then  grows  all  the  stronger,— 
and  so  does  pain. 


5  August. 
"What  an  inadequate,  mean  standard  is  human  intellect 
when  it  comes  to  measure  anything  great,  awesome,  or 
very  lofty.  Reason,  which  serves  well  enough  in  the  every- 
day conditions  of  life,  becomes  a  drivelling  fool,  like  Polo- 
nius,  in  exceptional  cases.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  usual 
ethical  code  cannot  be  considered  a  standard  by  which  to 
measure  great  passions.  To  see  in  an  immense  feeling 
like  mine  only  the  infringement  of  this  or  that  law,  not  to 
see  anything  else,  not  to  see  that  it  is  an  element  and  part 
of  those  higher  forces  that  mock  at  empty  rules,  a  godlike, 
immeasurable,  creative  power  on  which  rests  the  All-Life, 
is  a  kind  of  blindness  and  littleness.  Alas,  Aniela  thus 
looks  upon  my  love  !  I  suppose  she  often  thinks  I  must 
respect  her  for  her  conduct ;  while  I  —  God  knows,  I  do 
not  say  it  because  it  concerns  my  own  fate,  but  judging 
her  quite  impartially  —  despise  her,  or  at  least  try  not  to 
despise  her  for  it,  and  say  to  her  inwardly :  "  I  should 
respect  you  and  worship  you  a  thousandfold  if  you  could 
look  upon  the  matter  differently,  not  as  regards  our  re- 
lations, but  as  regards  love  in  general." 


6  August. 
There  is  something  in  Gastein  very  health-giving. 
To-day  I  noticed  that  Aniela  has  gained  quite  a  brown 
color  from  the  mountain  air,  and  looks  very  well ;  which 
is  all  the  more  noteworthy,  as  she  has  had  many  troubles 
and  anxieties.  One  of  her  troubles  was  the  difference 
arising  between  her  and  her  husband,  the  humiliation  of 
his  accepting  a  loan  from  me,  and  my  love,  which  diźj- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  345 

tracts  her  mind  and  troubles  her  peace.  Notwithstand- 
ing all  this,  the  delicate  face  is  glowing  with  health. 
There  is  more  color  in  it  than  before  we  came  here.  I 
recall  the  time  when  she  seemed  almost  to  fade  away  in 
my  eyes.  I  remember  how  horrified  I  was  at  the  thought 
that  her  life  might  be  in  danger.  To-day  that  fear  at 
least  has  ceased  to  haunt  me.  If  I  knew  that  in  the 
future  there  would  be  even  less  pity  for  me,  that  my 
feelings  for  her  would  count  for  nothing,  but  that  she 
would  be  happy  and  full  of  health,  I  should  say :  *'  Let 
her  be  pitiless,  let  her  slight  my  feelings,  provided  she 
be  well."  In  the  composition  of  true  feeling,  there  is 
the  desire  for  personal  happiness,  but  there  is  also  tender 
thoughtfulness  and  affection. 

Yesterday  Aniela  had  donned  one  of  her  old  dresses. 
I  noticed  it  at  once,  and  the  whole  past  stood  before  me. 
God  only  knows  what  a  turmoil  there  was  within  me. 


7  August. 

My  aunt  has  forgiven  Aniela  long  ago.  She  loves  her 
so  much  that  if  I  died  she  would  still  have  somebody  to 
cling  to,  provided  Aniela  remained.  To-day  the  dear  old 
aunt  was  lamenting  that  Aniela  had  no  amusements,  was 
sitting  too  much  in  the  house  and  had  seen  nothing  of  the 
beautiful  scenery  around  except  the  road  to  Hofgastein. 
"  If  I  were  only  stronger  on  my  feet  I  would  go  with  you 
everywhere;  your  husband  ought  to  have  shown  you 
something  of  the  country,  and  he  was  continually  tramp- 
ing about  by  himself.'* 

Aniela  assured  her  that  she  was  quite  satisfied,  and 
did  not  want  more  exercise. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do,"  said  I,  in  the  most  careless 
manner,  "  and  walk  a  great  deal.  I  can  accompany  Aniela 
wherever  she  wants  to  go,  and  show  her  all  that  is  worth 
seeing,  —  at  least  in  the  nearest  neighborhood."  Then  I 
added,  in  a  still  more  indifferent  voice  :  "  It  is  considered 


346  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

quite  the  proper  thing.  In  a  place  like  this  mere  ac- 
quaintances walk  out  together,  not  to  say  anything  about 
near  relations." 

Aniela  did  not  say  anything,  but  both  the  elder  ladies 
were  unanimous  in  their  opinion  that  I  was  right.  To- 
morrow we  are  to  go  to  the  Schreckbriicke. 


8  August. 

We  have  entered  into  our  compact,  and  henceforth  a 
new  life  is  to  begin  for  us  both.  It  is  not  quite  the  same 
as  I  had  shaped  it,  but  my  future  life  must  adapt  itself 
to  it.  From  now,  everything  will  be  clear  and  definite 
between  us.  There  will  be  nothing  new,  nothing  to  be 
expected  or  looked  out  for,  but  at  any  rate  I  shall  not  be 
any  longer  like  a  man  who  has  no  roof  to  shelter  him. 


9  August. 

Yesterday  towards  evening  we  went  to  the  Schreck- 
briicke. The  elder  ladies  accompanied  us  as  far  as  the 
Cascades ;  there  they  sat  down  on  the  first  bench  they 
found,  and  we  two  went  on  alone.  We  both  seemed  to 
feel  that  some  serious  conversation  would  take  place.  At 
first  I  wanted  to  point  out  to  her  various  places  and  tell 
her  the  names,  but  had  scarcely  mentioned  Schareck  when 
it  struck  me  as  so  incongruous  with  the  thoughts  nearest 
our  hearts  that  I  grew  silent.  We  could  talk  only  about 
our  two  selves,  or  else  remain  silent.  And  we  walked  on 
in  silence  for  a  long  time  ;  this  silence  besides  was  neces- 
sary for  me,  and  gave  me  time  to  conquer  that  restless- 
ness which  seizes  us  when  we  approach  a  great  crisis. 
I  got  myself  so  far  under  control  that  I  resolved  to  speak 
of  my  love,  with  calmness  and  naturally,  as  if  it  were  a 
known  and  established  fact.  Experience  had  taught  me 
that  women  can  be  attuned  to  any  disposition.  Nothing 
iufluences  the  feminine  mind  so  much  as  the  tone  of  con- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  347 

versation  ;  and  if  the  mau  in  making  a  proposal  does  it 
with  the  air  of  one  who  expects  the  earth  to  swallow  him 
as  soon  as  he  has  uttered  the  words,  that  is,  in  terror  and 
the  consciousness  that  he  is  doing  something  quite  un- 
heard of,  that  terror  and  that  consciousness  communicate 
themselves  very  quickly  to  the  woman.  Acting  in  the 
opposite  way,  the  proposal  loses  much  of  its  impressive- 
ness,  but  it  goes  smoother  and  creates  less  opposition. 
Besides,  I  had  already  told  her  of  my  love  ;  all  I  wanted 
now  was  to  prevent  Aniela  from  going  off  at  a  tangent  at 
the  first  tender  word ;  in  that  case  conversation  would 
become  impossible.  It  was  necessary  to  introduce  the 
subject  in  order  to  establish  our  future  relations  on  a 
proper  basis.  Considering  all  this,  I  said  in  a  very  quiet 
voice :  — 

"  You  cannot  have  the  slightest  idea  how  deeply  you 
hurt  me  by  that  project  of  your  departure.  I  know  very 
well  that  the  reasons  you  gave  were  only  ostensible,  and 
that  I  was  the  cause  of  that  sudden  resolution.  In  mak- 
ing your  plans  you  forgot  only  one  thing,  and  that  is 
what  would  become  of  me.  That  did  not  enter  into  your 
calculation  at  all.  Believe  me,  it  was  not  your  departure 
which  would  have  hurt  me,  so  much  as  the  thought  that 
I  count  for  nothing  in  your  life.  You  might  say  that 
you  meant  it  for  the  best  and  wanted  me  to  forget  you. 
Do  not  try  that,  for  the  remedy  would  be  worse  than  you 
suppose." 

Aniela's  face  in  an  instant  was  covered  with  burning 
blushes.  It  was  evident  that  my  words  had  touched  her 
to  the  quick.  I  do  not  know  what  she  would  have  said, 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  had  not  an  accident  diverted 
her  attention.  Close  to  the  road,  there  suddenly  appeared 
one  of  those  cretins  so  common  about  Gastein.  He  was 
not  a  pleasant  sight,  with  that  big  head,  immense  goitre, 
and  bestial  expression  of  face.  He  had  risen  so  sud- 
denly from  amid  the  tall  grasses  that  Aniela  screamed 
with  terror.  While  she  recovered  herself  and  searched 
for  some  money  —  I  had  forgotten  my  purse  —  several 


348  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

minutes  elapsed.  During  that  time  the  impression  my 
words  had  made  upon  her  had  grown  less  vivid,  and  as 
we  resumed  our  walk  she  said,  in  a  sad  voice,  full  of  in- 
expressible sweetness  :  — 

"  You  have  often  been  unjust  to  me,  but  never  more  so 
than  now.  You  think  that  it  costs  me  nothing,  that  I 
have  no  heart ;  and  yet  I  am  not  a  whit  happier  than 
you." 

Her  voice  seemed  to  fail,  and  my  pulses  began  to  beat 
wildly.  It  seemed  to  me  that  one  more  effort  and  I 
should  force  from  her  a  confession. 

"  Aniela  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  for  God's  sake  tell  me  what 
you  mean ! " 

"  I  mean  that  since  I  am  unhappy,  you  must  allow  me 
to  remain  honest.  Dear  Leon,  I  beg  you  to  have  pity 
upon  me.  You  do  not  know  how  unhappy  I  am !  I 
would  sacrifice  everything  except  my  honesty.  Do  not 
ask  me  to  give  up  that  last  plank  of  salvation,  —  because 
it  is  not  right,  one  is  not  allowed  to  sacrifice  that !  Oh, 
Leon,  Leon ! " 

She  folded  her  hands  and  looked  at  me  with  eyes  veiled 
by  tears,  and  her  body  trembling  like  an  aspen  leaf.  I 
do  not  know,  if  I  had  taken  her  into  my  arms  she  might 
have  died  afterwards  from  shame  and  sorrow,  but  proba- 
bly she  would  not  have  found  the  strength  to  resist.  But 
at  that  moment  I  forgot  about  my  own  self  and  saw  only 
her.  I  threw  at  her  feet  my  senses,  my  passions,  and 
my  egoism.  What  did  it  all  matter  where  she  was  con- 
cerned ?  The  beloved  woman  that  defends  herself  with 
tears,  tears  that  do  not  flow  for  the  sake  of  keeping  up 
appearances  but  from  the  depth  of  her  sorrow,  is  invin- 
cible. I  took  both  her  hands,  kissed  them  with  reverent 
love,  and  said  :  — 

"  It  will  be  as  you  wish ;  I  swear  it  upon  the  love  I 
bear  you." 

We  both  could  not  speak  for  some  time.  To  confess 
the  truth,  I  felt  at  this  moment  a  better  and  nobler  man 
tihan  I  had  ever  been  before.     I  was  like  one  who  ha.ą 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  349 

passed  the  crisis  in  a  severe  illness,  is  still  very  weak  and 
exhausted,  but  glad  of  the  dawning  life  before  him. 
Presently  I  began  to  talk  to  her,  quietly  and  gently,  not 
only  as  a  lover  but  as  the  nearest  friend,  whose  main  ob- 
ject is  the  happiness  of  the  being  that  belongs  to  him. 

"You  do  not  want  to  stray  from  the  right  path,"  I 
said ;  "  and  I  will  not  lead  you  astray.  You  have  changed 
me,  and  all  the  sorrows  and  sufferings  I  endure  have 
made  a  different  man  of  me.  Through  you  I  have  come 
to  understand  the  difference  between  love  and  passion. 
I  cannot  promise  that  I  shall  cease  to  love  you,  for  I  can- 
not ;  I  should  lie  to  you  and  to  myself  if  I  should  prom- 
ise that.  I  do  not  say  it  in  temporary  exaltation,  but 
as  a  man  who  has  looked  into  his  inmost  self  and  knows 
what  is  delusion  and  what  truth.  I  will  love  you  as  if 
you  were  dead,  —  I  will  love  your  soul.  Do  you  agree 
to  that,  Aniela  dear  ?  It  is  a  sad  love,  but  angelic.  You 
can  accept  and  return  it.  I  make  my  vow  of  faithful- 
ness this  moment,  and  it  is  as  binding  as  if  it  had  been 
uttered  before  the  altar.  I  shall  never  marry  another 
woman ;  I  shall  live  for  you  only,  and  my  soul  will  be 
yours.  You  too  will  love  me  as  if  I  had  died.  I  do  not 
ask  for  anything  else  ;  and  you  will  not  refuse,  because 
there  is  no  sin.  You  have  read  Dante  ?  Remember,  he 
too  was  married,  and  he  loved  Beatrice  with  the  same 
love  I  ask  from  you  ;  he  openly  acknowledged  the  feel- 
ing, and  the  Church  holds  his  poem  as  almost  a  sacred 
thing.  If  you  have  that  feeling  for  me  in  your  heart, 
give  me  your  hand,  and  after  that  nothing  will  be  able 
to  come  between  us  or  to  mar  our  peace." 

Aniela,  after  a  momentary  silence,  gave  me  her  hand. 
"  I  always  had  that  friendship  for  you,"  she  said,  "  and 
I  promise  you  from  my  heart  and  soul." 

I  winced  at  the  word  "  friendship,"  which  is  too  small 
foE  me,  and  does  not  express  our  feelings.  But  I  did  not 
say  anything.  '*  The  word  '  love  '  still  frightens  her,"  I 
said  to  myself ;  "  she  will  get  accustomed  to  it  by  and 
by ; "  and  since  the  thing  is  essentially  the  same,  it  was 


350  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

not  -wortli  while  to  disturb  the  peace  at  which  we 
had  arrived  through  stormy  seas  of  misunderstandings, 
troubles,  and  sorrows.  We  are  both  so  tired  that  the  rest 
is  welcome  and  is  worth  making  some  little  sacrifices  for. 

Besides,  it  was  a  mere  shadow,  that  disappeared  in  the 
joyful  light  of  the  thought  that  the  dear  being  belongs  to 
me  and  is  spiritually  my  faithful  wife.  I  would  have 
given  anything  if  to  a  question  "  Are  you  really  mine  ?  " 
she  had  answered  in  the  affirmative.  I  would  have  asked 
the  question  a  hundred  times  a  day  and  never  tired  of  the 
answer ;  but  at  this  moment  I  did  not  want  to  frighten 
her.  I,  who  can  make  allowance  for  so  many  things, 
understand  that  there  are  certain  words  which,  however 
expressive  of  the  existing  state  of  things  they  may  be, 
come  with  difficulty  from  a  woman's  lips,  —  especially 
from  those  of  such  a  woman  as  Aniela.  Yet  every  word 
she  said  was  a  confession  that  she  loves  me  ;  and  did  she 
not  consent  that  our  souls  should  belong  to  each  other  ? 
What  more  could  I  wish  for  ? 

When  we  had  gone  as  far  as  the  Schreckbrticke,  we 
turned  back.  On  the  way  we  tried  to  look  at  our  new  posi- 
tion, as  people  look  around  a  new  house  and  try  to  make 
themselves  at  home  in  it.  This  did  not  come  easy  to 
either  of  us  at  first.  Even  this  pleased  me,  for  it  seemed  to 
me  that  thus  bride  and  bridegroom  would  feel  a  few  hours 
after  they  were  joined  in  wedlock,  while  yet  they  had 
not  had  time  to  grow  accustomed  to  each  other.  Never- 
theless I  spoke  a  great  deal  about  us  both.  I  explained 
to  her  the  holiness  and  purity  of  such  a  union  as  ours. 
I  tried  to  inspire  her  with  trust  and  confidence.  She  lis- 
tened to  me  with  a  bright,  serene  countenance,  and  now 
and  then  turned  her  beautiful  eyes  towards  me.  The 
serenity  of  the  weather  corresponded  with  the  serenity 
of  our  souls.  The  sun  had  gone  down  behind  the  moun- 
tains ;  and  they  shone  now  in  their  evening  dress  of  pur- 
ple. I  offered  my  arm  to  Aniela,  which  she  accepted, 
and  so  we  went  together  in  the  soothing  stillness  of  the 
evening.     Suddenly  I  noticed  that  her  step  had  grown 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  351 

uncertain,  as  if  she  were  afraid  of  something,  and  her  face 
became  very  white.  It  lasted  only  a  minute,  but  her  dis- 
turbance was  so  evident  that  I  got  frightened  for  her,  and 
began  to  ask  what  had  frightened  her. 

At  first  she  did  not  want  to  tell  me,  but  when  I  insisted 
she  confessed  reluctantly  that  the  unfortunate  cretin  had 
come  into  her  mind,  and  that  for  an  instant  she  had  felt 
afraid  he  might  suddenly  jump  up  from  the  roadside. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  said,  "why  he  should  have 
made  such  a  horrible  impression  on  me,  and  feel  ashamed 
to  have  such  silly  nerves,  but  I  would  not  meet  him  again 
for  anything  in  the  world." 

I  soothed  and  comforted  her,  saying  that  nothing  could 
happen  to  her  while  I  was  by.  She  still  kept  looking 
uneasily  at  the  roadside,  but  presently  our  conversation 
dispersed  the  unpleasant  impression. 

It  was  dusk  when  we  arrived  at  the  Cascades,  but  the 
evening  was  exceptionally  warm.  On  the  square  before 
Straubinger's  a  great  many  people  were  listening  to  some 
strolling  harpists.  I  do  not  know  why  this  solitary  moun- 
tain pass  should  have  reminded  me  so  strongly  of  Italy. 
It  recalled  to  my  memory  the  evenings  on  the  Pincio,  when 
I  thought  how  happy  I  could  be  had  I  Aniela  at  my 
side.  I  now  felt  her  arm  resting  upon  mine,  and  still 
more  felt  her  soul  close  to  my  own.  And  thus,  full  of 
sweet  peacefulness,  we  returned  home. 


10  Auguat. 

I  thought  to-day  much  about  what  Aniela  had  said  to 
me  on  the  way  to  the  Schreckbrtlcke.  I  was  particularly 
struck  by  the  exclamation  which  burst  from  her  lips : 
"  You  do  not  know  how  unhappy  I  am ! "  There  was 
such  deep  sorrow,  such  a  wail  in  these  words,  and  an  in- 
voluntary confession  that  she  does  not  love  her  husband, 
cannot  love  him ;  and  also  that  her  heart,  in  spite  of  all 
her  efforts,  belongs  to  me.    If  so  she  has  been  as  unhappy 


362  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

as  I.  I  say  "  has  been,"  because  at  present  she  is  not. 
Now  she  can  say  to  herself :  "  I  can  remain  true  and 
keep  my  faith ;  and  for  the  rest,  I  trust  to  God." 


11  August. 
It  came  into  my  mind  that  I  had  no  right  to  expect 
Aniela  to  sacrifice  everything  for  me.  It  is  not  true  that 
one  sacrifices  everything  to  love.  If,  for  instance,  I  had 
an  encounter  with  Kromitzki  and  she  adjured  me  in  the 
name  of  our  love  to  ask  his  pardon  on  my  bended  knees, 
I  would  not  do  it.  It  is  a  fantastic,  senseless  supposition, 
yet  at  the  very  thought  the  blood  mounts  to  my  head. 
No,  Aniela  dear,  you  are  right ;  there  are  things  we  may 
not  sacrifice  even  to  love. 


12  August. 
We  went  in  the  morning  on  the  Windischgratzhohe. 
It  is  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour  on  foot,  but  I  got  a 
horse  for  Aniela,  which  I  led  by  the  bridle.  Walking  at 
her  side,  I  rested  my  hand  on  the  horse's  neck  and  at 
the  same  time  touched  her  dress.  Mounting  on  the 
horse's  back,  she  held  on  to  me  for  a  moment  and  the 
old  Adam  woke  up  very  strong  in  me.  To  kill  him,  I 
should  have  to  annihilate  my  body  and  become  a  spirit. 
I  bound  myself  to  keep  my  senses  and  impulses  under 
control,  and  I  am  doing  so ;  but  I  did  not  bind  myself 
not  to  have  them.  I  might  as  well  have  bound  myself 
not  to  breathe.  If  the  touch  of  Aniela's  hand  made  no 
more  impression  upon  me  than  if  it  were  a  piece  of  wood 
it  would  prove  that  I  did  not  love  her  any  longer,  and 
then  all  pledges  would  be  unnecessary.  Saying  to  Aniela 
that  mj'"  whole  nature  had  changed  in  contact  with  her, 
I  did  not  intend  to  deceive  her,  but  had  not  exactly  defined 
the  change.  The  truth  is  I  only  keep  myself  in  check. 
X  renounced  complete  happiness  in  order  to  secure  a  part 


WlTIiOtlT  DOGMA.  S53 

of  it.  I  preferred  to  have  Aniela  in  this  way  to  not  hav- 
ing her  at  all,  and  I  think  that  every  one  who  knows  the 
meaning  of  true  love  will  understand  me  easily.  If  the 
passions  are  dogs,  as  the  poets  say,  I  have  chained  them 
up,  will  starve  them  into  submission,  but  I  cannot  pre- 
vent their  straining  at  the  chain  or  emitting  an  occasional 
howl. 

I  know  to  what  I  have  pledged  myself,  and  shall  keep 
to  it ;  there  is  nothing  else  to  do.  In  the  face  of  Aniela's 
firmness  of  purpose  there  is  no  room  for  any  agreeing  or 
disagreeing.  The  fear  that  she  may  take  back  what  she 
has  given  is  enough  curb  for  me.  I  rather  exaggerate 
my  caution  and  wariness,  so  as  not  to  frighten  away  the 
bird  which  I  call  "  spiritual  love,"  and  she  calls  "  friend- 
ship." That  word,  wliich  in  the  first  moment  was  merely 
a  prick,  enough  to  make  me  wince,  is  gradually  growing 
into  a  sore.  At  the  time  it  seemed  to  me  not  expressive 
enough,  and  now  it  appears  to  me  too  cautious,  too  full  of 
conditions.  How  strange  that  characteristic  of  feminine 
nature,  not  to  call  things  by  their  name.  Yet  I  explained 
distinctly  to  Aniela  what  I  was  asking  for,  and  she  under- 
stood me  fully ;  and  nevertheless  she  called  the  feeling 
"  friendship,"  as  if  she  wanted  to  veil  herself  with  it 
before  me,  before  herself  and  God. 

Looking  at  it  from  another  point,  it  is  true  that  a  feel- 
ing devoid  of  all  earthly  substance  may  be  called  by  any 
name.  There  is  sadness  and  bitterness  in  the  thought. 
This  caution,  common  to  very  pure-minded  women,  is 
undoubtedly  the  outcome  of  their  modesty,  but  it  does 
not  permit  them  to  be  generous.  I  might  go  straight  to 
Aniela  and  say  to  her :  "  I  have  sacrificed  to  you  one  half 
of  my  existence,  and  you  grudgingly  dole  me  out  your 
words ;  is  it  right  ?  "  And  I  tell  her  so  inwardly  with 
reproachful  eyes.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  love  without 
generosity,  without  a  desire  to  make  some  sacrifices. 

To-day  on  Windischgratzhohe  we  conversed  together 
like  two  beings  closely  connected  by  the  ties  of  love  and 
friendship,  but  there  was  nothing  in  our  speech  that 

£3. 


354 


WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


brother  and  sister  might  not  have  said  to  each  other.  If 
we  had  made  such  an  excursion  before  we  had  entered 
into  our  compact,  I  should  undoubtedly  have  taken  some 
advantage  of  it,  kissed  her  hands  or  feet  or  even  tried, 
if  only  for  a  moment,  to  take  her  in  my  arms ;  to-day  I 
walked  quietly  at  her  side,  like  one  who  is  afraid  of  the 
slightest  frown.  Partly  I  restrained  myself  on  purpose, 
thinking  that  in  this  way  I  should  win  her  confidence 
and  favor.  By  this  silence  I  meant  to  say  :  "  You  will 
not  be  disappointed  in  me  ;  I  will  take  rather  less  than  I 
have  a  right  to,  —  so  as  not  to  break  our  compact." 

But  one  feels  hurt  all  the  same,  when  the  sacrifice  is 
accepted  promptly  and  cheerfully  as  soon  as  it  is  offered. 
Involuntarily  one  says  inwardly  to  the  beloved  woman  : 
"  Do  not  let  yourself  be  outdone  in  generosity."  And  I 
said  so,  —  but  in  vain. 

What  is  the  result  ?  A  certain  disappointment  for 
myself.  I  used  to  think  if  such  a  compact  existed  be- 
tween us,  I  should  have  perfect  liberty  within  its  boun- 
daries ;  should  be  able  to  say,  "  I  love  you "  as  often  as 
I  liked,  and  hear  the  same  from  her  lips  ;  and  that  this 
would  compensate  me  for  all  my  torments,  for  the  whole 
time  of  my  suffering,  —  in  short  that  I  should  be  king  in 
that  restricted  kingdom;  but  now  it  appears  that  my 
horizon  gets  narrower  than  ever,  and  doubts  arise  within 
me  that  might  be  compressed  in  the  query :  "  What  have 
you  gained  ?  "  I  try  to  chase  the  thoughts  away.  I  have 
gained  something.  I  have  gained  the  sight  of  a  bright 
and  happy  face ;  I  have  gained  the  smile  ;  I  have  gained 
the  delight  of  seeing  her  limpid  eyes  look  fearlessly  into 
mine.  If  I  feel  cramped  and  not  quite  at  home  in  the 
new  house,  the  reason  is  that  I  have  not  got  used  to  it. 
Besides,  formerly  I  was  without  a  roof  to  shelter  me ; 
and  if  I  cannot  always  see  clearly  what  I  have  gained,  I 
know  perfectly  well  that  I  have  lost  nothing.  I  shall 
never  forget  that. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  355 

14  August. 

My  aunt  begins  to  talk  about  going  borne.  She  is 
pining  after  her  beloved  Ploszow.  I  asked  Aniela  if  she 
would  like  to  go.  She  said  she  would ;  therefore  I  too 
am  anxious  to  return.  Formerly  I  attached  some  vague, 
undefined  hope  to  a  change  of  place.  Now  I  expect  noth- 
ing ;  but  at  Ploszow  there  are  so  many  pleasant  memories 
that  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  the  place  again. 


16  August. 
The  days  flow  now  very  evenly.  I  think  much  and  I 
rest.  My  thoughts  are  often  sad,  at  times  not  without 
bitterness,  but  my  soul  was  so  weary  that  I  find  this 
restfulness  very  soothing.  It  makes  me  feel  conscious 
how  much  better  off  I  am  than  I  used  to  be.  I  am  mostly 
with  Aniela;  we  read  together,  and  then  discuss  what 
we  have  read.  Everything  T  say  to  her  is  only  a  defini- 
tion, a  development  of  love ;  everything  tends  in  that 
direction ;  but  strange  to  say  I  notice  that  now  I  never 
speak  of  it  directly,  as  if  that  feminine  objection  to  call- 
ing things  by  their  proper  names  had  also  infected  me. 
I  do  not  know  why  this  is  so,  but  it  is  a  fact.  And  it 
grieves  me,  —  sometimes  grieves  me  very  much  ;  and  it 
pleases  me,  because  I  see  that  Aniela  is  pleased,  and  what 
is  more,  loves  me  for  it.  In  order  to  cement  the  union 
of  our  souls,  I  have  begun  to  speak  much  about  myself 
so  as  not  to  have  any  secrets  from  her.  I  am  reticent 
only  about  such  things  as  might  offend  her  delicacy  of 
feeling  or  the  purity  of  her  thoughts.  I  tried  to  initiate 
her  into  the  workings  of  a  spirit  undermined  by  scepticism 
and  the  want  of  a  basis  in  life.  I  told  her  openly  that  I 
had  nothing  to  live  for  except  her ;  told  her  also  what 
was  going  on  within  me  after  her  marriage,  what  shocks 
had  passed  through  my  heart  and  brain  since  my  return 
to  Ploszow ;  I  spoke  of  this  all  the  more  eagerly,  as  it 


356  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

was  like  a  series  of  confessions,  as  it  all  meant :  "  I  loved 
you  then,  as  I  love  you  now,  beyond  expression."  She 
was  deceived  as  to  the  meaning  of  these  confidences  and 
listened  to  them  as  if  there  had  been  no  question  about 
her,  with  emotion,  sympathy,  and  possibly  unconscious 
delight.  I  saw  tears  gathering  in  her  eyes,  her  breast 
heaved  as  if  her  whole  spiritual  being  went  out  to  me 
with  open  arms  saying :  "  Come  to  me ;  you  have  suffered 
enough  and  deserve  some  happiness."  And  I  reply  with 
my  eyes :  "  I  do  not  ask,  do  not  remind  you  of  anything ; 
I  am  altogether  at  your  mercy." 

I  made  those  confidences  also  for  another  reason, 
namely,  to  introduce  the  habit  of  mutual  confidence  be- 
tween us,  and  make  her  tell  me  what  was  going  on  in  her 
mind  at  the  same  time.  But  I  could  not  manage  it.  I 
tried  to  ask,  but  the  words  seemed  to  come  from  her  with 
such  difficulty,  there  was  such  evident  constraint  and  un- 
easiness, that  I  left  off  asking.  To  be  quite  open  with 
me,  she  would  have  to  reveal  all  she  felt  for  me  and  what 
was  her  relation  to  her  husband.  I  wanted  her  to  come 
to  that ;  but  her  modesty  and  her  loyalty  for  the  absent 
husband  would  not  permit  her  to  speak. 

I  understood  all  perfectly,  but  I  could  not  help  feeling 
very  sore,  and  my  pessimism  says  :  "  It  is  you  who  pay 
the  score ;  you  give  everything,  without  getting  any- 
thing in  return  ;  you  are  deceived  in  thinking  her  soul 
belongs  to  you ;  even  that  soul  remains  a  blank  to  you ; 
then  what  do  you  possess  ?  " 

I  admit  the  truthfulness  of  the  utterance,  but  still  I 
count  upon  the  future. 


17  August. 
I  am  often  reminded  of  the  poet  Mickiewicz's  words, 
"Alas!  it  was  only  a  half-salvation  ! "  But  even  if  I 
did  not  see  in  that  half-salvation  all  that  is  wanting,  I 
could  not  arrive  at  perfect  peace.  This  would  be 
achieved  only  by  not  desiring  anything  more,  in  other 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  357 

words  by  ceasing  to  love.  There  come  upon  me,  more 
and  more,  moments  of  despondency  when  I  say  to  my- 
self that  this  is  only  another  enchanted  circle.  I  found 
some  relief  from  torments  I  could  bear  no  longer, 
that  is  true ;  but  relief  is  not  the  same  as  the  re- 
moval of  the  pain.  When  the  famished  Arab  sucks  peb- 
bles instead  of  drinking  water,  he  does  not  satisfy  his 
thirst;  he  only  deceives  it.  Query  :  Do  I  deceive  my 
self  ?  There  are  again  two  persons  within  me  :  the  spec- 
tator and  the  actor ;  and  the  one  criticises  and  mocks  the 
other.  The  sceptic  Ploszowski,  the  Ploszowski  who  has 
no  settled  and  unshakable  belief  in  the  existence  of  a 
soul,  in  love  with  a  soul,  appears  simply  ridiculous  to 
that  critical  number  two.  What  is,  after  all,  my  relation 
with  Aniela  ?  Sometimes  I  see  in  it  merely  the  product 
of  a  diseased  imagination.  I  am  now  indeed  like  the  bird 
that  drags  one  wing  on  the  earth.  I  have  doomed  to 
paralysis  one  half  of  my  being,  live  only  half  a  life,  and 
love  with  half  a  love.  It  is  a  vain  enterprise.  To  sepa- 
rate desire  from  love  is  as  impossible  as  to  separate 
thought  from  existence.  Even  religious  feelings,  the 
most  ideal  of  all  feelings,  manifest  themselves  by  words, 
by  songs,  by  kneeling,  and  kissing  of  sacred  objects ;  and 
I  would  deprive  the  love  for  a  woman  of  all  embodiment, 
sever  all  connection  with  the  earth,  and  make  it  live  upon 
earth  in  a  transmundane  shape  !  Love  is  a  natural  ten- 
dency and  desire.  What  did  I  take  away  from  it  ?  The 
tendency  and  the  desire.  I  might  as  well  have  gone  to 
Aniela,  and  said  to  her,  "  Since  I  love  you  above  every- 
thing, I  pledge  myself  to  love  you  no  longer." 

There  is  some  terrible  mistake  in  this.  I  had  truly 
lost  my  way  in  the  desert ;  no  wonder  that  I  saw  a  Fata 
Morgana. 

18  August. 
Yesterday  I  felt  oppressed  and  troubled  by  various 
thoughts.      I    could    not    sleep.      I    left    off    plunging 


358  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

into  the  depths  of  pessimism,  and  instead  of  that  began 
to  think  of  Aniela  and  call  her  image  before  my  eyes. 
This  always  soothes  me.  My  imagination  strained  to  the 
utmost  point  brings  her  before  me  so  lifelike  that  I  fancy 
I  could  speak  to  her.  I  recalled  to  memory  the  time  I 
had  met  her  first  as  a  grown-up  girl.  I  saw  the  white, 
gauzy  draperies  studded  with  bunches  of  violets,  the  bare 
shoulders,  and  the  face  a  little  too  small  but  fresh  like  a 
spring  morning,  and  so  original  in  the  bold  outline  of  the 
eyebrows,  the  long  lashes,  and  that  soft  down  on  either 
side  of  the  face.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  I  still  heard  her 
voice  saying,  "  Do  you  not  recognize  me,  Leon  ? "  I 
wrote  at  the  time  that  her  face  appeared  to  me  like  music 
translated  into  human  features.  There  was  in  her  at  the 
same  time  the  charm  of  the  maiden  and  the  attraction  of 
the  woman.  No  other  woman  ever  fascinated  me  so 
strongly,  and  there  must  needs  cross  my  way  a  Circe-like 
Laura  to  lure  me  away  from  the  one  woman  I  could  love, 
almost  my  bride. 

Nobody  feels  more  than  I  that  the  w^ords,  "  The  spell 
thou  hast  cast  upon  me  lasts  forever,"  are  not  a  mere 
poetic  fancy,  but  bitter  reality.  Besides  love  and  desire, 
I  have  for  her  an  immense  liking,  the  tenderness  of  affec- 
tion, and  am  drawn  to  her  with  the  irresistible  force  of 
the  magnet  to  iron.  And  it  cannot  be  otherwise,  for  she 
is  still  the  same  Aniela,  and  is  not  changed  in  the  least. 
It  is  the  same  face  of  a  little  girl,  with  the  charm  of  a 
woman,  the  same  look,  the  same  eyelashes,  brows,  shoul- 
ders, and  supple  waist.  She  has  now  one  more  charm, 
—  that  of  the  lost  Paradise. 

What  a  tremendous  gulf  between  our  relations  in  the 
past  and  those  in  the  present.  When  I  think  of  the 
Aniela  who  was  waiting,  as  for  her  salvation,  to  hear 
from  me  the  words,  "  Will  you  be  mine  ?  "  I  can  scarcely 
believe  it  to  have  been  true.  Eeflecting  upon  that,  I  feel 
like  the  ruined  magnate  who  at  one  time  scattered  his 
wealth  about,  dazzling  the  world  by  his  splendor,  and  in 
later  years  lived  upon  charity. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  859 

That  night,  when  I  thought  about  Aniela  and  evoked 
her  image  before  my  eyes,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me 
that  we  had  no  portrait  of  her,  and  a  strong  desire  seized 
me  to  have  her  likeness.  I  grasped  at  the  idea  with 
enthusiasm,  and  it  made  me  feel  so  happy  that  it  finally 
drove  all  sleep  from  my  eyes.  "  I  shall  have  you,"  I 
said ;  "  I  shall  be  able  to  look  at  you  at  any  time,  kiss 
your  hands,  your  eyes,  your  lips ;  and  you  will  not  be 
able  to  prevent  it."  I  began  at  once  to  think  how  it 
might  be  done.  I  could  not  go  and  say  to  Aniela,  "  Have 
your  portrait  painted,  and  I  will  defray  the  expenses  ; " 
but  with  my  aunt  I  could  always  do  what  I  liked,  and  a 
hint  will  be  enough  to  make  her  wish  for  Aniela's  por- 
trait. At  Ploszow  she  has  a  whole  collection  of  family 
portraits,  which  are  her  pride,  and  my  desperation,  as 
some  of  them  are  truly  hideous ;  but  my  aunt  will  not 
have  them  removed  out  of  sight.  Considering  her  deep 
attachment  to  Aniela,  I  was  sure  she  would  be  delighted 
with  the  idea  of  adding  her  picture  to  the  collection.  As 
far  as  she  is  concerned  I  consider  the  thing  done ;  but 
now  came  the  question  whom  to  intrust  with  the  execu- 
tion of  the  portrait.  I  thought  it  would  be  impossible 
to  induce  the  ladies  to  take  Paris  on  their  way ; 
there  I  should  have  the  choice  between  the  accuracy 
and  objectivism  of  Bonnat,  the  bold  breadth  of  Car- 
olus  Duran,  and  the  inimitable  sweetness  of  Chaplin. 
Shutting  my  eyes,  I  imagined  how  each  of  them  would 
acquit  himself  of  the  task,  and  I  was  pleased  with 
the  fancy.  But  I  saw  it  was  impracticable ;  I  foresaw 
that  my  aunt  would  insist  upon  a  Polish  painter.  I 
should  have  no  objection  to  that,  for  I  remembered  see- 
ing at  the  Warsaw  and  Cracow  exhibition  portraits  as 
excellent  as  from  the  brush  of  any  foreign  painter.  I 
was  only  afraid  of  the  delay.  As  regards  fancies,  and 
also  in  many  other  things,  there  is  something  eminently 
feminine  in  my  composition.  When  I  plan  a  thing  I 
want  to  get  it  done  at  once.  As  we  were  in  Germany, 
Bot  very  far  from  Munich  and  Vienna,  I  began  to  choose 


360  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

among  the  German  painters.  I  fixed  upon  two  names  t 
Lembach  and  Angeli.  I  had  seen  some  fine  portraits  by 
Lembach,  but  only  men's  ;  besides,  I  did  not  like  his  self- 
assurance  and  sketchiness,  which,  as  I  am  fond  of  French 
painting,  I  can  endure  only  from  a  Frenchman.  Angeli's 
faces  did  not  altogether  satisfy  me,  but  I  had  to  admit 
his  delicacy  of  touch  ;  and  that  is  just  the  thing  wanted 
for  Aniela's  face.  Besides,  in  order  to  get  Lembach  we 
should  have  to  go  out  of  our  way,  and  Angeli  is  on  the 
way,  —  a  circumstance  one  is  ashamed  to  confess,  not 
wanting  to  be  regarded  as  a  Philistine.  But  in  this  case 
I  wanted  to  save  time.  *'  The  dead  ride  quick,"  as  the 
poet  says ;  but  lovers  ride  quicker  still.  Besides  I  should 
have  chosen  Angeli  in  any  case,  and  finally  decided  that 
he  should  paint  Aniela's  portrait.  As  a  rule,  I  do  not 
approve  of  portraits  in  ball  dress,  but  I  resolved  to  have 
Aniela  in  a  white  dress  with  violets.  I  want  to  have  the 
delusion  in  looking  at  her  that  she  is  the  Aniela  of  the 
never-to-be-forgotten  times.  I  do  not  want  anything  to 
remind  me  that  she  is  Pani  Kromitzka.  And  besides, 
the  dress  is  dear  to  me  as  a  memory. 

I  thought  the  night  would  never  end,  so  impatient  was 
I  to  speak  about  it  to  my  aunt.  I  changed  my  plan 
though,  for  if  my  aunt  had  the  portrait  painted,  she 
would  insist  upon  a  Polish  painter.  I  decided  instead  to 
offer  Aniela's  likeness  to  my  aunt  on  her  name's-day, 
which  is  towards  the  end  of  October.  Put  in  this  way, 
Aniela  cannot  refuse.  Of  course  I  shall  have  a  copy  for 
myself. 

I  scarcely  slept  at  all,  but  look  upon  it  as  a  satisfac- 
tory night,  as  all  the  hours  were  occupied  with  these 
plans.  I  dozed  a  little  towards  five,  but  was  up  and 
dressed  at  the  stroke  of  eight.  I  went  to  Straubinger's 
and  sent  a  telegram  to  the  Vienna  Ktinstlerhaus  inquir- 
ing whether  Angeli  was  at  home,  then  returned  to  the 
villa  and  found  the  ladies  at  the  breakfast-table.  I 
opened  fire  at  once.  "  Aniela,"  I  said,  "  I  have  come  to 
confess  my  guilt  in  regard  to  you.    Last  night  instead  of 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  361 

sleeping  I  have  disposed  of  your  person,  and  it  now  re- 
mains to  be  seen  whether  you  will  consent." 

She  looked  at  me  with  half-frightened  eyes.  Perhaps 
she  fancied  I  was  going  mad,  or  that  in  a  fit  of  despair  I 
had  made  up  my  mind  to  blurt  out  the  truth  before  the 
elder  ladies  ;  but  seeing  my  calmness  she  asked :  — 

"  How  have  you  disposed  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  it  to  be  a  surprise  for  you,  dear  aunt,  but  I 
do  not  see  how  it  could  be  done  in  secret,  and  so  I  must 
tell  you  what  present  I  intend  to  give  you  for  your  name's- 
day ; "  and  I  told  them  what  I  had  in  my  mind.  My 
aunt,  who  has  an  excellent  portrait  of  me,  painted  some 
years  ago,  was  greatly  delighted,  and  thanked  me  warmly. 
I  saw  that  Aniela  was  not  less  pleased,  and  that  was 
enough  for  me.  There  and  then  a  lively  discussion 
sprung  up  as  to  when  and  by  whom  the  portrait  was  to 
be  painted,  and  the  question  of  dress,  so  dear  to  the 
feminine  heart,  had  to  be  gone  into  with  all  details.  I 
had  a  ready  answer  for  all  questions  and  saw  my  chance 
of  getting  something  else  besides  the  picture. 

"  It  will  not  take  much  time,"  I  said.  "  I  have  sent  a 
telegram  to  Angeli,  and  I  do  not  think  it  will  delay  our 
journey  much.  Aniela  will  give  Angeli  five  or  six  sit- 
tings, and  as  you  would  have  to  stop  at  Vienna  in  any 
case  to  see  Notnagel,  there  is  no  loss  of  time.  The  dress 
can  be  painted  from  a  model,  and  the  face  will  be  finished 
in  five  sittings.  But  we  must  send  at  once  Aniela's  pho- 
tograph and  a  lock  of  her  hair.  The  hair  I  must  have  at 
once.  Then  Angeli  will  be  able  to  make  the  rough 
sketch,  and  later  on  put  in  the  finishing  touches."  I 
counted  upon  the  fact  that  none  of  the  ladies  knew  much 
about  portrait-painting.  I  wanted  the  hair  for  myself, 
not  for  Angeli,  to  whom  it  would  have  been  of  use  only 
if  he  painted  Aniela's  portrait  from  a  photograph,  to 
which  he  would  not  have  consented.  But  I  spoke  as  if 
the  whole  portrait  depended  on  that  lock  of  hair.  Two 
hours  after  breakfast  I  received  an  answer  to  my  tele- 
gram.    Angeli  is  in  Vienna,  where  he  is  just  finishing 


362  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

tlie  portrait  of  the  Princess  M.  I  wrote  to  him  at  once 
and  sent  him  Aniela's  photograph ;  then  went  out  to 
Aniela,  who  was  walking  in  the  garden. 

"  And  your  hair  ?  "  I  said ;  "  I  want  to  send  the  letter 
by  the  two-o'clock  post." 

She  went  at  once  into  her  room,  and  shortly  afterwards 
returned  with  a  lock  of  hair.  My  hand  shook  a  little  as 
I  took  it  from  her,  but  my  eyes  looked  straight  into  hers 
and  said  in  that  glance  :  — 

"  Do  you  not  guess  that  I  want  it  for  myself,  that  it 
will  be  for  me  the  most  precious  treasure  ? " 

Aniela  did  not  say  anything,  but  blushed  like  a  girl 
who  listens  for  the  first  time  to  words  of  love.  She  had 
guessed  it.  I  thought  that  for  one  touch  of  those  lips  it 
would  be  worth  while  giving  one's  life.  My  love  for  her 
becomes  so  strong  at  times  that  it  is  akin  to  pain. 

I  have  now  a  small  part  of  her  physical  being.  I  got 
it  by  cunning.  I  the  man  of  the  world,  the  sceptic,  I 
who  enter  into  myself  and  analyze  every  thought,  have 
come  to  practise  little  tricks  and  devices,  like  Goethe's 
Siebel.  But  I  say  to  myself,  "  At  the  worst  I  am  only 
sentimental  and  ridiculous."  Who  knows  whether  the 
second  self  that  reduces  everything  to  consciousness  with 
cold  criticism  is  not  more  foolish  and  more  ridiculous  ? 
Analysis  is  like  the  pulling  to  pieces  of  a  ilower.  It 
spoils  the  beauty  of  life,  therefore  its  happiness,  —  the 
only  sensible  thing  in  life. 


22  August. 
After  the  completion  of  Pani  Celina's  cure  we  Avaited 
for  weeks  till  the  heat  in  the  plains  should  have  grown 
less  intense,  and  at  last  the  weather  broke  and  again  de- 
layed our  journey.  There  has  been  an  almost  Egyptian 
darkness  for  three  days.  The  clouds  which  have  been 
gathering  on  the  summits,  breeding  snow  and  rain,  have 
descended  from  the  heights  and  enveloped  Gastein  as 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  363 

in  a  wet  blanket.  There  is  such  a  mist  that  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day  I  have  to  pick  my  way  carefully  from 
Straubinger's  to  our  villa.  Everything  is  wrapped  in  a 
thick  veil, — the  houses,  the  trees,  the  mountains,  and 
cascades.  The  shapes  of  things  dissolve  and  disappear 
in  the  moist  clouds  that  weigh  upon  everything,  and  also 
upon  the  human  mind.  We  light  the  lamps  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The  ladies  have  finished  pack- 
ing, and  we  should  have  gone  in  spite  of  the  mist,  but  the 
road  is  torn  up  by  the  mountain  torrents  beyond  Hof- 
gastein.  Pani  Celina  again  suffers  from  headaches,  and 
my  aunt,  after  receiving  a  letter  from  Chwastowski  about 
the  harvest,  walks  with  heavy  steps  about  the  room, 
talking  to  herself  and  scolding  Chwastowski.  Aniela 
looked  pale  and  out  of  sorts  in  the  morning.  She  had  a 
bad  night  and  dreamed  about  the  cretin  she  had  seen 
near  the  Schreckbriicke.  She  woke  up,  and  could  not  go 
to  sleep  again ;  she  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  in  ner- 
vous terror.  It  is  very  strange  Avhat  an  impression  the 
wretched  cripple  has  made  upon  her.  I  tried  by  cheer- 
ful conversation  to  make  her  forget  about  the  incident, 
in  which  I  succeeded.  Since  our  compact  on  the  Schreck- 
briicke she  is  without  comparison  brighter,  more  cheer- 
ful, and  happier. 

As  regards  myself,  seeing  Aniela  thus  contented,  I 
cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  complain,  though  it  often 
occurs  to  me  that  our  relation  is  mainly  based  upon  there 
being  no  relation  at  all.  When  I  entered  into  the  com- 
pact I  knew  what  I  was  doing  and  what  shape  our  feeling 
would  take  ;  but  now  that  shape  seems  to  be  getting  more 
intangible  and  undefined,  and  wrapped  up  in  a  mist  like 
that  which  enfolds  Gastein.  I  have  a  presentiment  that 
Aniela  will  not  grant  me  what  is  due  to  me,  and  I  dare 
not  remind  her  about  anything.  I  dare  not,  because  a 
struggle  is  too  exhausting,  especially  a  struggle  for  the 
woman  we  love.  I  have  been  engaged  in  this  struggle 
half  a  year  and  not  gained  anything ;  and  I  feel  so  weary 
that  I  prefer  the  truce,  such  as  it  is,  to  a  renewal  of  my 


364  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

former  warfare.  There  is  also  another  reason.  If  this 
state  of  things  does  not  exactly  answer  to  my  expecta- 
tions, it  pleases  and  conciliates  Aniela.  She  fancies  I 
love  her  in  a  nobler  way,  therefore  she  appreciates,  I 
dare  not  say  loves,  me  more  and  more.  In  spite  of  the 
absence  of  all  outward  signs,  I  see  it  and  it  gives  me 
courage ;  I  say  to  myself,  *'  If  her  feeling  increases,  only 
persevere,  and  a  time  may  come  when  it  will  be  stronger 
than  her  power  of  resistance." 

People  generally,  and  women  especially,  fancy  that 
the  so-called  Platonic  love  is  a  peculiar  species  of  love, 
very  rare  and  very  noble.  It  is  simply  a  confusion  of 
ideas.  There  may  be  such  a  thing  as  Platonic  relations, 
but  Platonic  love  is  as  much  nonsense  as  dark  light. 
Even  love  for  the  dead  consists  of  a  longing  after  their 
bodily  presence  as  well  as  their  souls,  Among  the  living 
this  feeling  is  called  resignation. 

I  did  not  want  to  say  an  untruth  when  I  told  Aniela  I 
would  love  her  as  if  she  were  dead ;  but  resignation  does 
not  exclude  all  hope.  In  spite  of  all  my  disappointments, 
in  spite  of  the  consciousness  that  my  hopes  are  vain,  I 
still  nourish  in  a  corner  of  my  heart  the  hope  that 
the  present  state  of  affairs  is  only  a  halting-place 
on  the  way  to  love.  I  may  repeat  to  myself  over 
and  over  again,  "  Delusion  !  delusion  !  "  but  I  cannot  get 
rid  of  it  until  I  get  rid  of  my  desire.  They  are  insepar- 
able. I  agreed  to  the  compact  because  I  could  not  help 
myself,  because  I  preferred  this  to  nothing  at  all ;  but  I 
consider  it,  almost  unconsciously,  as  a  diplomatic  move 
which  aims  at  complete,  not  half  happiness.  What 
makes  me  nevertheless  thoughtful,  surprises,  and  grieves 
me,  and  what  I  simply  cannot  understand,  is  that  on  this 
line  even  I  am  defeated.  My  victories  lie  in  the  dim, 
far-off  future ;  but  in  the  present,  in  spite  of  all  my  cun- 
ning, experience  of  life,  strong  feelings,  and  diplomacy, 
I  am  defeated  by  a  being  infinitely  more  simple  than  I, 
less  skilled  in  life's  tactics,  less  cautious  and  calculating 
in  the  course  she  takes.     It  is  a  defeat ;  there  is  no  other 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  S65 

word  for  it.  What  is  our  present  relation  ?  Nothing 
more  than  the  relation  of  brother  and  sister,  which  she 
wished  for  and  which  I  did  not  wish.  Formerly  I  fought 
with  the  storm  and  often  came  to  grief,  but  I  steered  my 
own  bark.  Now  Aniela  steers  for  us  both ;  we  go  more 
smoothly  and  more  evenly,  but  I  feel  I  am  going  where 
I  did  not  wish  to  go.  I  now  understand  why  she  put  out 
her  hand  at  once,  when  I  mentioned  Dante's  love  for 
Beatrice.  She  wanted  to  lead  me.  Has  she  calculated 
everything  beforehand  more  carefully  and  profoundly 
than  I  ?  No ;  I  do  not  know  anybody  less  capable  of 
any  calculation,  therefore  I  cannot  admit  the  idea ;  yet  I 
cannot  get  rid  of  the  consciousness,  bordering  upon  the 
mystical,  that  some  one  has  calculated  it  for  her. 

It  is  all  very  strange,  and  the  strangest  thing  of  all  is 
that  I  forged  the  fetters  which  bind  me ;  I  myself  con- 
trived to  bring  about  a  relation  so  foreign  to  my  nature, 
my  views,  and  my  most  ardent  desires.  If  somebody 
had  foretold  to  me,  before  I  knew  Aniela,  that  I  should 
hit  upon  such  devices,  it  would  have  made  me  laugh 
at  the  prophet  and  at  myself.  I,  and  Platonic  relations  ! 
Even  now  I  feel  sometimes  inclined  to  laugh  and  jeer  at 
myself.  But  I  cannot;  it  is  sheer  misery  that  has 
brought  me  to  that  pass. 


23  August. 

We  leave  here  to-morrow.  The  sky  is  clearing  up  and 
there  is  a  westerly  breeze  that  promises  fine  weather. 
The  mist  has  gathered  into  long,  whitish  billows,  that 
hang  on  the  mountain  sides,  and  like  huge  leviathans  are 
slowly  rolling  down.  I  went  with  Aniela  on  the  Kaiser- 
weg.  This  morning  the  question  arose  in  my  mind  what 
would  happen  if  the  existing  state  of  things  ceased  to 
satisfy  Aniela.  I  have  no  right  to  overstep  the  boundary, 
and  I  am  afraid  to  do  so ;  suppose  she  too  thought  the 
same  ?     Her  innate  modesty  and  shyness  in  themselves 


366  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

would  prove  an  almost  insurmountable  barrier;  and  if, 
added  to  that,  she  thought  the  mutual  agreement  as  bind- 
ing for  her  as  for  me,  we  should  never  come  to  an  under- 
standing ;  we  should  suffer  in  vain. 

Eefiecting  upon  this,  I  understood  the  futility  of  such 
fears.  She,  to  whom  even  that  Platonic  relation  appears 
too  broad,  who  consciously  or  unconsciously  restricts, 
and  does  not  even  grant  me  what  is  due  to  me  within 
these  limits,  should  be  the  first  to  acknowledge  any  greater 
rights.  And  yet  the  human  soul,  even  if  in  hell,  will 
never  lose  hope  altogether.  In  spite  of  the  self-evident 
impossibility,  I  resolved  to  make  myself  safe  by  giving 
Aniela  to  understand  that  if  I  considered  the  agreement 
as  binding,  it  was  not  the  same  with  her. 

I  wanted  to  say  many  other  things,  especially  that  she 
was  doing  me  a  great  wrong,  and  that  my  soul  yearned 
to  hear  a  word  of  love  from  her  lips,  not  once  but  many 
times,  and  that  only  thus  I  should  be  able  to  remain  on 
those  lofty  heights  whereon  she  condemned  me  to  dwell. 
But  that  morning  she  was  so  gay,  so  cheerful  and  kind 
to  me,  that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  disturb  her  peace. 
Yesterday  I  could  not  understand  how  a  being  so  full  of 
simplicity  had  got  me  under  her  power  and  conquered  me 
even  on  those  fields  I  thought  my  exclusive  domain.  To- 
day it  seems  clearer  to  me  ;  and  I  have  a  ready  and  very 
sad  hypothesis,  —  she  loves  me  less  than  I  love  her. 

I  knew  a  man  who  had  the  trick  of  repeating  in  all  his 
sentences,  "  Never  mind  me."  It  would  not  be  strange 
if  I  began  to  do  the  same.  For  when  I  feel,  as  I  do  some- 
times, a  desire  to  get  rid  of  some  words  that  almost  burn 
my  tongue,  the  ♦sudden  thought  that  I  might  mar  her 
cheerfulness,  drive  away  the  smile,  and  change  her  good 
disposition,  renders  me  mute.  Ah  me !  how  often  this 
does  happen ! 

The  thought  that  I  love  Aniela  more  than  she  loves 
me  has  crossed  my  mind  a  hundred  times ;  one  day  I 
think  of  it  in  one  way,  the  next  in  another.  I  am  stray- 
ing among  my  thoughts  and  look  at  the  matter  in  a  dif- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  367 

ferent  light  every  day.  At  one  time  it  seems  to  me  that 
she  does  not  care  for  me  very  much,  in  fact  is  incapable 
of  any  strong  feeling ;  and  again,  I  not  only  think  but 
am  conscious  that  she  has  one  of  the  deepest  and  most 
loving  hearts  I  ever  met  in  the  world.  I  have  always 
plenty  of  proofs  either  way.  Thus  I  say  to  myself :  "  If 
her  love  increases,  three,  four,  ten  times  as  much,  will 
there  not  come  a  time  when  it  will  grow  stronger  than 
her  resistance  ?  "  Yes.  Then  it  is  only  a  question  of 
how  great  her  feeling  is  ?  No.  For  if  the  feeling  were 
small  she  would  not  have  suffered  so  much,  and  I  have 
seen  her  suffer  almost  as  much  as  I  did  myself.  Against 
all  reasoning  I  have  one  answer :  "  I  have  seen," 

To-day  a  sentence  escaped  her  which  I  shall  remember, 
for  it  is  an  answer  to  my  doubts.  She  would  not  have 
said  this  had  I  spoken  about  us  and  our  love.  But  I 
spoke  in  a  general  way,  as  I  now  always  do.  I  argued 
that  it  lay  in  the  nature  of  feeling  to  be  connected  with 
action ;  that  love  produces  acts  of  will.  When  I  had 
finished  she  said  quietly  :  — 

"  Not  always.     One  may  suffer." 

Of  course  one  may  suffer.  With  these  few  words  she 
had  crushed  my  arguments  and  filled  my  heart  with  rev- 
erence for  her.  In  moments  like  these  I  am  happy  and 
unhappy,  as  again  it  seems  to  me  that  she  loves  me  as  I 
love  her,  but  will  remain  pure  before  God,  and  men,  and 
herself.  And  I  shall  not  be  able  to  shake  that  temple. 
When  all  is  said  and  done  this  analysis  of  her  heart  and 
feelings  does  not  lead  to  any  certainty.  I  am  always 
walking  in  the  dark.  To  my  philosophical  and  social 
"Ido  not  know"  there  is  now  added  a  personal  con- 
sideration, far  more  serious  ;  for  this  "  I  do  not  know  " 
threatens  my  very  life. 

I  forged  myself  the  chain  which  binds  me  to  Aniela, 
and  there  is  no  hope  whatever  that  it  ever  will  be  broken. 
I  love  her  despairingly,  and  it  is  a  question  whether  my 
love  be  not  a  disease.  If  I  were  younger,  less  shattered 
in  mind  and  nerves, — in  short,  of  a  more  normal  dis- 


368  WlTHOtJT  DOGMA. 

position,  —  I  might,  seeing  the  hopelessness,  try  to 
break  that  chain.  As  it  is,  I  do  not  make  even  an  effort. 
I  love  as  a  man  with  diseased  nerves,  a  man  who  is  close 
upon  mania ;  love  as  old  men  do,  clinging  to  love  with  all 
their  might,  as  it  is  for  them  a  question  of  life.  Thus 
one  may  cling  to  a  branch  overhanging  a  precipice. 

This  one  thing  has  blossomed  in  my  life,  consequently 
its  growth  is  so  out  of  all  proportion.  A  phenomenon 
like  this  is  easy  to  understand  and  will  repeat  itself  the 
oftener,  the  more  people  there  are  like  me ;  that  is,  hyper- 
analytical  sceptics  inclined  to  hysteria,  with  a  great 
nothingness  in  their  souls,  and  a  strong  neurosis  in  their 
veins.  This  modern  product  of  our  epoch,  drawing  to  its 
end,  may  not  love  at  all,  or  may  look  upon  love  as  mere 
licentiousness  ;  but  if  it  happen  .that  all  the  forces  of 
one's  life  centre  in  one  feeling,  and  come  under  the  sway 
of  his  neurosis,  the  predilection  will  become  as  ineradi- 
cable as  any  other  chronic  disease.  Physiologists  have 
not  fully  understopd  this,  still  less  novelists,  who  occupy 
themselves  with  the  analysis  of  the  modern  human 
soul. 


Vienna,  25  August. 

We  arrived  to-day  at  Vienna.  On  the  way  I  listened 
to  a  conversation  between  my  aunt  and  Pani  Celina,  of 
which  I  took  note,  as  it  seemed  to  make  an  extraordinary 
impression  upon  Aniela.  We  four  were  alone  in  the 
railway  carriage ;  we  were  discussing  the  portrait,  and 
especially  the  question  whether  the  white  dress  would 
not  have  to  be  abandoned,  as  the  making  of  it  would  take 
up  too  much  time.  Suddenly  Pani  Celina,  whose  mind 
is  full  of  reminiscences  and  dates,  which  she  quotes  in 
and  out  of  season,  turned  to  Aniela  and  said:  — 

"It  is  just  two  months  to-day  since  your  husband 
arrived  at  Ploszow,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,"  replied  Aniela. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  S69 

At  the  same  instant  she  grew  very  red  and  tried  to 
hide  her  confusion  by  taking  down  one  of  her  bags 
from  the  rack.  The  blush  had  not  gone  from  her  face 
when  she  turned  round  again,  and  there  was  in  her  face 
an  expression  of  acute  pain.  The  ladies  did  not  notice 
it,  for  they  were  deep  in  a  discussion  as  to  the  exact  date 
of  Kromitzki's  arrival ;  but  I  had  noticed  it  and  it  grated 
upon  my  nerves,  for  it  reminded  me  that  that  very  day 
she  liad  to  submit  to  his  caresses.  I  was  furious,  and  at 
the  same  time  ashamed  for  that  blush  of  hers.  In  my 
love  there  are  many  great  thorns,  but  there  are  also  a 
multitude  of  small,  hideous  ones.  Before  that  unlucky 
remark  of  Pani  Celina's  I  felt  almost  happy  because  I  had 
the  illusion  that  I  was  travelling  with  Aniela  as  my  af- 
fianced wife.  Now  in  one  moment  the  good  disposition 
fled.  I  felt  resentment  towards  Aniela,  and  I  showed  it 
in  my  manners.  She  noticed  it  at  once,  and  when  we 
arrived  at  Vienna  and  were  left  alone  for  a  moment,  she 
asked :  — 

"Are  you  angry  with  me  about  something ? " 

"  No,  but  I  love  you,"  I  said  curtly. 

Her  face  grew  sad.  She  thought,  perhaps,  that  I  had 
grown  tired  of  the  peaceful  current  of  our  life,  and  the 
old  Leon  had  come  back  again.  I  felt  angry  with  her,  but 
angrier  still  with  myself,  that  all  my  philosophy  and 
consciousness  did  not  serve  to  give  me  the  mastery  over 
the  slightest  sensations. 

I  went  at  once  to  Angeli,  but  when  I  arrived  at  his 
studio  it  was  six  o'clock  and  the  studio  was  closed. 
Aniela  will  be  rested,  and  to-morrow  I  will  go  with  her. 
1  have  changed  my  idea.  I  do  not  want  her  in  a  ball- 
dress,  showing  her  arms  and  shoulders ;  I  will  have  her 
as  she  is  every  day,  and  as  I  love  her  most. 

In  the  evening  Doctor  Chwastowski  came  to  see  us. 
He  looks  very  well,  and  as  strong  as  a  giant. 


370  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

26  August. 
I  had  a  very  nasty  dream.  I  begin  with  it  the  de- 
scription of  the  day.  I  am  not  one  to  attach  any  mean- 
ing to  dreams,  and  I  am  convinced  that  a  healthy  brain 
could  not  produce  such  stutf.  Sleeplessness  has  troubled 
me  now  for  some  time,  but  yesterday  I  had  scarcely 
closed  my  eyes  when  I  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep.  I  do  not 
know  at  what  time  I  had  that  dream  ;  it  must  have  been 
towards  morning,  for  when  I  awoke  it  was  broad  day- 
light, and  I  could  not  have  dreamed  long.  I  saw  a  great 
quantity  of  cockchafers  and  black  beetles  crawl  from  un- 
der the  mattress  and  along  the  sides  of  the  bed.  They 
were  as  big  as  matchboxes.  Presently  I  saw  them  crawl- 
ing up  the  wall.  Strange  how  realistic  dreams  can  be  ; 
I  distinctly  heard  the  rustling  of  their  feet  on  the  paper. 
Raising  my  eyes  I  noticed  big  clusters  of  beetles  hanging 
from  the  ceiling ;  but  they  were  of  a  different  kind,  much 
larger,  with  black  and  white  spots.  On  some  of  them  I 
could  distinguish  the  white  belly,  with  two  rows  of  feet 
on  either  side  which  looked  like  ribs.  In  my  dream  they 
seemed  quite  in  their  place,  and  yet  horrible.  They  filled 
me  with  loathing,  but  I  was  neither  astonished  nor  afraid. 
Only  after  I  had  awoke  the  loathing  became  unbearable 
and  changed  into  a  kind  of  fear,  —  fear  of  death.  It  was 
the  first  time  I  had  that  sensation,  and  that  fear  of  death 
took  such  a  form.  "  Who  knows,"  I  thought,  "  what 
hideous  shapes  are  awaiting  me  in  the  darkness,  on  the 
other  side  of  life  ?  "  Later  on  I  remembered  that  I  had 
seen  some  similar  beetles  in  an  entomological  collection, 
but  at  the  time  they  seemed  to  me  something  unnatural, 
belonging  to  an  intangible  after-life.  I  jumped  up  and 
raised  the  blind,  and  the  sight  of  daylight  calmed  me  at 
once.  The  streets  were  already  alive  with  the  traffic  of 
the  early  morning,  —  vegetable  carts  drawn  by  dogs, 
servants  going  to  market,  and  laborers  to  their  work. 
The  sight  of  the  normal  human  life  is  the  best  remedy 
against  phantasms  like  these.     I  feel  now  an  immense 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  S71 

necessity  for  light  and  life.  The  final  conclusion  of  all  this 
is  that  I  am  not  well.  My  tragedy  undermines  me  like  a 
cancer.  I  see  white  threads  in  my  hair ;  this  might  have 
come  in  the  course  of  nature ;  but  my  face,  especially  in  the 
morning,  has  a  waxen  hue,  and  my  hands  are  getting  trans- 
parent. I  am  not  getting  thin,  it  is  rather  the  opposite,  but 
I  am  conscious  of  ansemia  as  I  am  conscious  of  my  psychical 
state,  and  I  feel  that  my  vital  powers  are  passing  through 
a  crisis,  and  that  some  calamity  is  threatening  me. 

I  shall  never  go  mad.  I  cannot  even  imagine  how  I 
could  ever  lose  control  over  myself.  Besides,  a  cele- 
brated physician,  and  what  is  more  an  intelligent  man, 
told  me  that  at  a  certain  point  of  developed  conscious- 
ness this  was  quite  impossible.  I  think  he  has  written 
a  book  about  it.  But  without  going  mad  I  may  be  on 
the  eve  of  some  portentous  nervous  disease ;  and  as  I 
know  a  little  what  that  means,  I  say  sincerely  that  any 
other  would  be  preferable. 

I  have  not  much  faith  in  doctors,  especially  in  those 
that  trust  to  physic,  but  I  may  take  some  advice  if  only 
to  please  my  aunt.  I  know  one  remedy,  which  would  be 
infallible ;  if  Kromitzki  died  and  I  could  marry  Aniela 
I  should  speedily  get  well.  A  disease  springing  from 
nerves  must  be  cured  through  nerves.  But  she  will  not 
be  my  physician,  even  if  my  life  is  in  danger. 

I  went  with  Aniela  and  my  aunt  to  Angeli's  studio. 
The  first  sitting  took  place  to-day.  How  right  I  was  in 
saying  that  she  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  I  ever 
met  in  life,  because  there  is  nothing  commonplace  in  her 
beauty.  Angeli  looked  at  her  with  manifest  pleasure,  as 
if  he  had  before  him  a  noble  piece  of  art.  He  was  in  ex- 
cellent spirits,  drew  the  outline  with  enthusiasm,  and  did 
not  conceal  at  all  the  reason  of  his  satisfaction.  ''  In  my 
profession,"  he  said,  "  a  model  like  this  is  very  rare  in- 
deed. With  siich  a  sitter  it  is  delightful  to  work.  What 
a  face  !  what  expression  !  " 

The  expression  was  by  no  means  so  charming  as  usual, 
because  Aniela  is  a  shy  little  creature;  she  felt  confused, 


S72  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

bewildered,  and  it  evidently  cost  her  an  effort  to  keep  a 
natural  pose.     Angeli  understood  that. 

"It  will  be  easier  the  next  time,"  he  said;  "like  every- 
thing else,  one  must  get  accustomed  to  it."  And  he 
repeated  several  times :  "  This  will  be  something  like 
a  portrait." 

He  looked  also  with  a  pleased  countenance  at  my  aunt, 
'who  has  noble  features  and  a  singularly  commanding 
presence.  The  way  she  met  Angeli  was  in  itself  a  treat. 
It  was  the  off-hand  manner  of  the  grandę  dame,  always 
in  good  taste,  but  evidently  not  making  much  of  him. 
Angeli,  who  is  used  to  flattery  and  homage,  and  at  the 
same  time  a  clever  man,  judged  her  aright,  and  I  saw  he 
was  amused  by  her  demeanor. 

We  had  decided  upon  a  black  silk  dress,  very  elegantly 
made.  It  shows  off  Aniela's  figure  to  perfection,  its  sup- 
pleness and  rounded  curves.  I  can  neither  think  nor  write 
about  it  calmly.  Angeli,  addressing  Aniela,  repeatedly 
called  her  "Mademoiselle."  Feminine  nature,  even  an 
angelic  one,  has  still  its  little  weaknesses.  I  noticed  that 
my  dear  love  was  pleased,  and  still  more  so  when  I  told 
Angeli  of  his  mistake,  and  he  said  :  — 

"  But  I  shall  always  fall  into  the  same  mistake ;  look- 
ing at  madame  it  is  impossible  not  to  make  the  mistake." 
And  indeed  with  those  vivid  blushes  mantling  in  her 
face  she  was  surpassingly  lovely. 

On  our  way  out,  when  a  little  distance  from  my  aunt, 
I  whispered  to  Aniela :  — 

"  Aniela,  do  you  know  yourself  how  beautiful  you  are  ?  " 
She  did  not  say  anything,  but  lowered  her  eyelashes,  as 
she  always  does  in  such  a  case.  Nevertheless,  I  noticed 
that  during  the  rest  of  the  day  there  was  a  shade  of  un- 
conscious coquetry  in  her  manner  towards  me.  Angeli's 
words  and  mine  had  attuned  her  to  that  disposition.  She 
knows  I  admire  her,  that  never  woman  was  admired  more, 
and  it  pleases  her.  I  not  only  admired  her,  but  I  said  in- 
wardly, rather  shouted  to  myself:  "  To  the  deuce  with  all 
compacts.     I  love  you  without  limits  and  restrictions." 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  373 

In  the  evening  we  went  to  the  opera  to  hear  Wagner's 
"Fliegende  Hollander."  I  scarcely  heard  anything  at 
all,  or  rather,  heard  and  saw  only  through  her.  I  asked 
of  Wagner :  "  What  impression  do  you  make  upon  her  ? 
Does  your  music  enter  her  soul  and  make  her  inclined  to 
love  me  ?  Do  you  transport  her  into  higher  spheres, 
where  love  is  the  highest  law  ?  "  That  is  the  only  thing 
that  interests  me.  Women  perhaps  cannot  love  so  ex- 
clusively. They  always  reserve  part  of  their  soul  for 
themselves,  for  the  world  and  its  sensations. 


27  August. 

My  aunt  expressed  a  wish  to  depart.  She  is  anxious 
to  be  back  at  Ploszow,  and  says  that  her  presence  here  is 
not  necessary,  and  that  in  fact  we  should  get  on  better 
without  her ;  that  we  should  not  be  obliged  to  consider 
her  and  could  devote  all  our  time  to  the  portrait.  We 
all  protested  a  little,  and  maintained  that  a  lady  of  her 
years  ought  not  to  travel  alone.  Though  reluctantly,  I 
considered  it  my  duty  to  offer  my  companionship.  I  con- 
fess that  I  awaited  her  reply  with  a  certain  trepidation ; 
but  the  dear  old  lady  said,  with  great  liveliness :  — 

"Don't  think  of  it  even.  Suppose  Celina  should  fall 
ill  again,  who  would  look  after  them,  or  accompany  Aniela 
to  the  studio  ?  She  must  not  go  alone."  She  shook  her 
finger  playfully  at  Aniela,  and  with  a  frown  on  her 
brow,  and  smiling  mouth  she  added :  "  I  don't  quite 
trust  that  painter,  he  looks  at  her  more  than  his  work 
requires  ;  and  she  sees  it  too  and  is  pleased  with  it,  —  I 
know  her  little  ways." 

"But  aunty,  he  is  not  a  young  man,"  said  Aniela, 
laughingly  kissing  her  hands. 

My  aunt  muttered  :  "  Little  coaxing  rogue,  he  is  not 
a  young  man,  you  say  ?  but  he  pays  you  compliments  all 
the  same.     Leon,  you  must  keep  your  eye  on  them," 


374  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

I  relinquished  the  journey  to  Ploszow  with  delight, 
yielding  to  my  aunt's  convincing  reasons.  Pani  Celina 
insisted  upon  her  taking  the  maid,  at  least,  who  had  gone 
with  them  to  Gastein.  My  aunt  refused  at  first,  but  con- 
sented when  Aniela  pointed  out  that  they  would  do  very 
well  witliout  a  maid  in  the  hotel.  She  gave  orders  at 
once  to  have  her  things  packed.  She  is  very  quick  in 
her  decisions  and  wants  to  go  to-morrow  by  an  early 
train.  I  teased  her  during  dinner,  saying  that  she  liked 
her  horses  better  than  all  of  us  together.  "  Foolish  boy," 
she  said,  **  don't  talk  nonsense ;  "  then  forgot  herself,  and 
began  soliloquizing  about  the  horses.  The  sitting  was  a 
very  long  one  to-day.  Aniela  posed  much  better.  The 
face  is  already  laid  in. 


28  August. 

My  aunt  left  us  this  morning.  Pani  Celina,  who  went 
with  us  to  the  studio,  could  scarcely  restrain  an  exclama- 
tion of  horror  when  she  saw  Aniela's  face  on  the  picture. 
She  has  no  idea  about  painting  and  the  different  phases 
a  picture  has  to  go  through,  and  fancied  the  face  would 
remain  thus.  I  had  to  set  her  mind  at  rest.  Then 
Angeli,  who  guessed  what  was  the  matter,  laughed  and 
said  that  what  she  saw  before  her  was  only  the  chrysalis, 
from  which  the  butterfly  would  come  forth  in  time. 

"  I  believe  it  will  be  one  of  the  best  portraits  I  ever 
painted,"  he  said  ;  "  for  a  long  time  I  have  not  worked  so 
con  amove." 

I  hope  his  words  will  prove  true.  After  the  sitting  I 
went  to  get  tickets  for  the  opera.  When  I  returned  I 
found  Aniela  alone,  and  suddenly  temptation  seized  me 
with  the  force  of  a  hurricane.  I  thought  if  she  would 
come  into  my  arms,  now  was  the  moment ;  and  at  the 
very  thought  I  felt  myself  growing  pale,  my  pulses  beat 
wildly,  I  trembled  and  caught  my  breath.  The  room  was 
jn  semi-darkness,  veiled  by  heavy  curtains.     I  made  super- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  375 

human  efforts  to  conquer  the  irresistible  power  that 
pushed  me  towards  her.  It  seemed  as  if  a  hot  wave 
emanating  from  her  enfolded  me,  and  that  she  too  must 
feel  the  same  storm  in  her  breast.  "  I  must  take  her  in 
my  arms,  kiss  her  eyes  and  lips,"  a  voice  within  me 
seemed  to  say,  "though  I  were  to  perish  for  it  after- 
wards." She  noticed  at  once  my  unusual  state ;  there  was 
a  momentary  terror  in  her  eyes,  but  she  collected  herself 
at  once  and  said  quickly :  — 

"  You  must  be  my  guardian  now  in  mamma's  absence. 
There  was  a  time  when  I  used  to  be  afraid  of  you ;  but 
now  I  trust  you  and  feel  quite  at  ease  with  you." 

I  kissed  her  hands  and  said  in  a  choking  voice  :  "  Oh, 
Aniela,  if  you  knew  what  is  passing  within  me  ! " 

She  replied,  with  sadness  and  compassion  :  "  I  know ; 
you  are  so  good,  and  all  the  nobler." 

For  a  moment  I  still  fought  with  myself ;  but  she  dis- 
armed me,  —  I  did  not  dare.  During  the  rema,inder  of 
the  day  she  tried  to  compensate  me  for  my  restraint. 
Never  had  I  seen  in  her  eyes  so  much  affection  and  such 
tenderness.  Is  this  not  perhaps  the  best  way,  after  all  ? 
Perhaps  in  this  guise  the  feeling  will  grow  stronger  and 
conquer  her  at  last.  I  do  not  know,  I  begin  to  lose  my 
head.  But  following  this  road  I  sacrifice  every  day  my 
love  for  love's  sake. 


29  August. 
Something  very  strange  and  terrifying  has  happened. 
During  the  sitting,  while  posing  quietly,  Aniela  suddenly 
shuddered,  her  face  grew  very  red  and  then  turned  as 
white  as  snow.  Both  Angeli  and  I  were  terribly  fright- 
ened. He  interrupted  his  work  at  once  and  asked  Aniela 
to  rest ;  I  brought  her  a  glass  of  water.  After  a  few 
moments  she  grew  better  and  wanted  to  resume  the 
pose ;  but  I  saw  that  it  cost  her  some  effort  and  that  she 
Still  seemed  dazed.     Perhaps  she  was  tired.     The  weather 


376  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

is  very  hot  to-day  and  the  streets  are  like  a  baker's  oven. 
We  went  back  much  sooner  than  the  day  before,  and  I 
noticed  that  she  had  not  recovered  her  usual  sjjirits. 
During  dinner  she  grew  suddenly  very  red.  Pani  Celina 
asked  whether  she  felt  indisposed.  She  assured  us 
that  noting  was  the  matter  with  her.  To  my  offer  to 
go  and  bring  a  doctor,  she  replied  with  unusual  vivacity, 
and  with  a  touch  of  irritation,  that  there  was  no  need  for 
it,  that  she  was  not  ill.  During  the  remainder  of  the  day 
she  was  pale,  the  black  eyebrows  contracted  every  now 
and  then,  and  there  was  an  expression  of  sternness  in 
her  face.  She  was  more  indifferent  to  me  than  yesterday, 
and  I  fancied  she  avoided  my  eyes.  I  cannot  make  out 
what  it  means.  I  am  very  restless,  and  shall  not  be  able 
to  sleep ;  or  if  I  go  to  sleep  I  shall  have  dreams  such  as 
I  had  before. 


30  August. 

There  is  something  mysterious  going  on  around  me. 
Towards  noon  I  knocked  at  the  room  of  the  ladies,  to  let 
Aniela  know  it  was  time  to  go  to  the  studio ;  but  they 
were  not  there.  The  hotel  servant  told  me  they  had 
ordered  a  carriage  two  hours  before  and  driven  into  town. 
A  little  surprised  at  that,  I  resolved  to  wait  for  their 
return.  Half  an  hour  later  they  came  in,  but  Aniela 
gave  me  her  hand  silently  and  passed  at  once  into  her 
room.  A  quick  glance  at  her  face  told  me  it  was  troubled. 
I  thought  she  had  only  gone  to  change  her  dress,  when 
Pani  Celina  said  :  — 

"  My  dear  Leon,  please  go  to  Angeli  and  apologize  for 
Aniela ;  her  nerves  are  so  shaken  that  she  cannot  pos- 
sibly sit  for  him." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  her  ?  "     I  asked,  anxiously. 

Pani  Celina  seemed  at  a  loss  what  to  say,  and  at  last 
replied  :  "I  do  not  know;  I  took  her  to  the  doctor,  but 
we  did  not  find  him  at  home.  I  left  my  card  and  asked 
him  to  call  on  us  at  the  hotel  j  that  is  all  I  can  tell  you," 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  377 

I  could  not  get  anything  more  out  of  her.  I  took  a  cab 
and  drove  at  once  to  Angeli's  studio.  When  I  told  him 
that  Aniela  could  not  come  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  he 
looked  suspicious.  Perhaps  the  troubled  expression  of 
my  face  had  something  to  do  with  it.  It  crossed  my 
mind,  "  Suppose  he  suspects  us  to  have  changed  our 
minds,  and  that  we  do  not  want  the  portrait  any  longer  ?  " 
He  does  not  know  us ;  he  might  even  think  that  some 
money  difficulties  are  the  cause  of  my  anxiety.  To  guard 
against  such  suspicions,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  pay  him 
in  advance.  When  he  heard  of  this,  he  protested  vehe- 
mently and  said  he  never  accepted  payment  until  the 
picture  was  finished ;  but  I  replied  that  I  was  only  the 
depositary  of  the  sum,  and  as  I  might  be  called  away  at 
any  moment,  I  would  rather  get  rid  of  the  trouble.  After 
some  more  discussion,  which  bored  me,  it  was  settled 
according  to  my  wish.  We  agreed  that  the  sitting  should 
take  place  at  the  same  hour  the  day  following,  and  in 
case  Pani  Kromitzka  was  still  unable  to  attend  I  would 
let  him  know  before  ten.  When  back  at  the  hotel,  I  went 
at  once  to  the  ladies.  Aniela  was  in  her  room.  Pani 
Celina  said  the  doctor  had  just  gone  away,  but  did  not  say 
anything  conclusive ;  only  advised  her  to  keep  quiet  and 
avoid  emotion.  I  do  not  know  why,  but  I  fancied  I  saw 
again  in  her  face  the  same  hesitation.  Possibly  it  comes 
only  from  her  anxiety  about  Aniela,  which  I  can  well 
understand,  as  I  feel  the  same. 

When  in  my  own  room  I  reproached  myself  bitterly 
for  having  been,  at  least  partly,  the  cause  of  this  ;  as  all 
this  struggle  between  her  love  and  her  duty  could  not 
but  act  perniciously  upon  her  health.  Thinking  of  all 
this,  I  had  a  sensation  which  might  be  summed  up  in  a 
few  words :  "  Better  I  should  perish  than  that  she  should 
suffer."  I  thought  with  terror  that  she  would  not  come 
down  to  dinner,  as  if  something  serious,  God  knows  what, 
had  depended  upon  it.  Fortunately  she  did  come  down ; 
but  she  still  avoided  my  eyes,  and  there  was  the  same 
mysterious  something  in  the  air.     First  she  grew  ecu* 


378  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

fused  at  seeing  me,  and  then  made  an  effort  to  be  her 
usual  self,  but  failed.  She  made  upon  me  the  impression 
of  a  person  that  tries  to  conceal  a  trouble.  She  must 
have  been  paler  too  than  usual,  for  though  she  cannot  be 
called  dark  she  almost  looked  like  a  brunette. 

I  racked  my  brain  to  guess  what  could  have  happened. 
Was  it  anything  connected  with  Kromitzki  j  and  if  so, 
what  could  it  be  ?  Perhaps  my  money  is  in  danger. 
The  deuce  take  the  money !  All  I  possess  may  perish, 
rather  than  that  Aniela  should  have  a  moment  of 
anxiety.  I  must  get  at  the  bottom  of  the  mystery  to- 
morrow. I  am  quite  sure  it  has  to  do  with  Kromitzki ; 
but  what  can  he  have  done  ?  He  has  not  sold  another 
Gluchow,  for  the  simple  reason  that  there  is  not  another 
to  sell. 


Berlin,  5  September. 
I  am  at  Berlin,  because  escaping  from  Vienna  I  had  to 
go  somewhere.  I  could  not  go  to  Ploszow,  because  she 
will  be  there.  I  was  so  convinced  that  no  human  power 
could  tear  me  from  her  that  the  very  idea  of  separation 
seemed  to  me  a  wild  impossibility.  But  no!  It  is 
always  the  unexpected  that  happens,  for  I  have  gone 
away,  and  everything  is  at  an  end.  I  am  at  Berlin.  1 
feel  as  if  I  had  an  engine  in  my  head,  the  wheels  of 
which  keep  whirring  incessantly.  This  hurts  me ;  but  I 
am  not  mad.  I  know  everything  and  remember  every- 
thing. My  physician  was  right ;  it  is  only  weak  heads 
that  come  to  grief.  Besides,  it  could  not  happen  to  me, 
because  insanity  sometimes  means  happiness. 


6  September. 

Yet  at  times  I  fancy  that  my  brain  is  bursting  bounds. 
What  is  there  more  natural  than  that  a  married  woman 
ghould  have  children?    But  to  me  that  natiiral  order 


WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


379 


seems  so  moustrous  that  it  well-nigh  maddens  me.  Yet 
a  thing  cannot  be  at  the  same  time  in  the  order  of  nature 
and  a  monstrosity.  No  brain  can  withstand  that.  What 
does  it  mean?  I  understand  that  those  whom  fate 
means  to  crush  are  crushed  by  some  great,  overwhelm- 
ing calamity.  With  me  it  is  different.  I  am  rent 
asunder  by  an  ordinary,  natural  event,  —  and  the  more 
natural,  the  more  terrible  it  is.  One  contradicts  the 
other.  She  is  not  responsible,  —  I  understand  that  be- 
cause I  am  not  mad.  She  is  still  virtuous,  and  yet  I  could 
have  sooner  forgiven  her  any  other  crime.  And  I  cannot, 
God  knows  I  cannot  forgive  you,  because  I  loved  you  so 
much.  And  believe  me,  there  is  not  another  woman  in 
the  whole  world  I  scorn  so  much  as  I  scorn  you.  For, 
after  all,  it  comes  to  this  :  you  had  two  lovers,  one  for 
Platonic  love  and  the  other  for  matrimonial  love.  There 
is  in  me  a  wild  desire  to  laugh,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
dash  my  head  against  the  wall.  1  had  not  foreseen  that 
a  way  could  be  found  to  tear  me  from  you ;  and  yet  there 
is  one,  and  it  has  proved  effective. 


8  September. 

When  I  come  to  think  that  all  is  at  an  end  between  us, 
and  that  I  have  left  her  forever,  I  can  scarcely  believe 
it.  There  is  no  Aniela  for  me  any  more.  Then  what  is 
there  ?  Nothing.  Then  why  do  I  live  ?  I  do  not  know. 
It  is  not  out  of  curiosity  to  know  whether  a  son  or  a 
daughter  will  be  born  to  Pan  Kromitzki.  I  always  think 
of  it  as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  and  my 
head  seems  nigh  to  bursting.  It  is  very  strange !  I 
ought  to  have  been  prepared  for  that,  and  yet  the 
thought  never  entered  my  head.  I  should  have  sooner 
expected  a  stroke  of  lightning  to  fell  me  down.  Yet 
Kromitzki  was  with  her  at  Ploszow ;  they  were  together 
in  Vienna,  and  afterward  in  Gastein. 

And  I  put  it  all  down  to  her  nerves,  to  her  deep  feel- 
ings !    What  egregious  foolishness !     Since  I  could  beai 


380  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

to  see  the  two  together,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  put  up  with 
the  consequeuccs.  Alas,  it  is  not  my  reasou  that  revolts, 
it  is  my  uerves  that  quiver  under  these  consequences. 
There  are  people  iu  whom  these  two  forces  dwell  in  har- 
mony ;  within  me  they  worry  each  other  like  dogs.  That 
is  another  of  my  misfortunes.  How  is  it  1  never  thought 
of  it  ?  It  ought  to  have  struck  me  that  if  there  were  any 
terrible  coincidence,  any  blow  more  painful  than  another, 
it  would  be  reserved  for  me. 

Sometimes  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  were  hunted  by  a 
Providence  that,  not  satisfied  by  the  logic  of  facts  that 
contain  in  themselves  a  Nemesis,  took  a  special  delight 
in  fastening  personally  upon  me.  There  are  many  others 
who  love  their  neighbors'  wives,  and  they  do  not  suffer, 
because  they  love  less  honestly,  more  thoughtlessly.  Is 
there  any  justice  in  that  ?  No,  It  is  not  that.  There  is 
no  self-conscious  thought  in  the  ordering  of  these  things ; 
they  happen  by  chance  and  by  virtue  of  necessity. 


10  September. 

The  thought  still  pursues  me  that  as  a  rule  human 
tragedy  is  the  outcome  of  exceptional  events  and  calam- 
ities, and  mine  comes  from  a  natural  event.  Really  I  do 
not  know  which  is  worst.  The  natural  order  of  things 
seems  to  me  past  bearing. 


11  September. 
I  have  heard  that  a  man  struck  by  lightning  stiffens, 
but  does  not  fall  down  at  once.  I  too  keep  up,  sustained 
by  that  thunderbolt  that  struck  me,  but  I  feel  myself 
falling.  As  soon  as  it  grows  dark  in  the  evening  some- 
thing strange  takes  place  within  me.  I  feel  so  oppressed 
that  it  costs  me  an  effort  even  to  sigh ;  it  seems  as  if  the 
air  could  not  get  to  my  lungs,  and  that  I  breathe  with  only 
a  part  of  them.     During  the  night,  and  also  in  the  day, 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  381 

a  sudden  nameless  terror  seizes  me,  —  terror  of  nothing 
in  particular.  I  feel  as  if  something  horrible  was  going 
to  happen,  something  worse  than  death.  Yesterday  I 
put  the  question  to  myself :  "  What  would  become  of 
me  if,  in  this  foreign  town,  I  suddenly  forgot  my  name 
and  where  I  lived,  and  wandered  on  and  on  in  darkness 
without  knowing  where  I  was  going  ?  " 

These  are  sick  fancies.  Besides,  in  such  a  case  that 
would  happen  to  my  body  which  has  already  happened 
to  my  soul ;  for  in  a  moral  sense  I  do  not  know  where  I 
dwell,  —  I  walk  in  darkness,  aimlessly,  in  a  kind  of  mad- 
ness. I  am  afraid  of  everything,  except  of  death. 
Strictly  speaking,  I  have  a  strange  sensation  as  if  it  were 
not  that  I  am  afraid,  but  as  if  fear  dwelt  in  me,  as  a  sepa- 
rate being,  —  and  I  tremble  ;  I  cannot  bear  darkness  now. 
In  the  evening  I  go  out  and  walk  in  the  streets,  lighted 
by  electric  lamps,  until  I  am  thoroughly  tired.  If  I  met 
anybody  I  knew,  I  should  escape,  if  to  the  other  end  of 
the  world ;  but  crowds  have  become  a  necessity  to  me. 
When  the  streets  are  getting  empty  I  feel  terrified.  The 
thought  of  night  fills  me  with  nameless  fear.  And  how 
long  they  seem,  these  nights  ! 

I  have  continually  a  metallic  taste  in  my  mouth.  I 
felt  it  for  the  first  time  that  night  when  I  came  home 
and  found  Kromitzki  waiting  for  me  ;  the  second  time  I 
felt  it  when  Pani  Celina  told  me  the  "great  news." 
What  a  day  !  I  had  gone  to  ask  how  Aniela  was,  when 
the  doctor  had  seen  her  for  the  second  time.  There  was 
not  the  slightest  suspicion  in  my  mind ;  I  did  not  under- 
stand anything  even  when  Pani  Celina  said :  "  The  doc- 
tor says  that  those  are  purely  nervous  symptoms,  and 
have  nothing  to  do  with  her  state." 

Seeing  that  I  did  not  understand,  she  said,  with  a  cer- 
tain uneasiness : — 

"  I  must  tell  you  the  great  news." 

And  she  told  me  the  "  great  news."  When  I  heard  it 
I  felt  the  metallic  taste  in  my  mouth,  and  a  cold  sensa- 
tion in  my  brain,  exactly  as  I  had  felt  that  evening  I 


382  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

met  Kromitzki  unexpectedly.  I  went  into  my  room.  I 
remember  among  other  things  that  I  I'elt  an  immense  de- 
sire to  laugh.  That  ideal  being,  for  whom  even  Platonic 
love  seemed  to  be  impermissible,  and  who  instead  of 
"  love  "  used  the  word  "  friendship  !  "  I  felt  a  desire 
to  laugh,  and  at  the  same  time  to  dash  my  head  against 
the  wall. 

I  preserved  nevertheless  a  mechanical  self-possession. 
It  came  from  the  consciousness  that  everything  was  over 
and  done  with ;  that  I  must  go  —  that  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  go.  That  consciousness  transformed  me 
into  an  automaton,  doing  by  routine  everything  that  was 
necessary  for  my  departure.  I  was  even  conscious  of 
keeping  up  appearances.  Why  ?  I  do  not  know,  as  this 
did  not  matter  now  to  me  any  longer.  Most  likely  it 
was  an  instinctive  action  of  the  brain,  which  for  months 
had  been  trained  in  concealing  the  truth  and  keeping  up 
appearances.  I  told  Pani  Celina  that  I  had  seen  a  doc- 
tor, and  that  he  said  there  was  something  amiss  with  my 
heart,  and  ordered  me  to  go  to  Berlin  without  delay,  — 
and  she  believed  it. 

Not  so  Aniela.  I  saw  her  eyes  dilated  with  terror,  and 
in  her  face  the  expression  of  a  degraded  martyr ;  and 
there  were  two  persons  within  me  :  one  who  said,  "  Is 
it  her  fault  ?  "  and  another  who  despised  her.  Oh,  why 
did  I  love  her  so  much  ? 


12  September. 

It  is  almost  two  weeks  since  I  left.  They  must  be  at 
Ploszow  by  this  time.  I  wrote  to-day  a  letter  to  my  aunt, 
because  I  was  afraid  she  might  be  uneasy  about  me  and 
come  here  to  look  after  me.  I  am  sometimes  astonished 
to  find  there  is  still  somebody  that  cares  what  becomes 
of  me. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  383 

13  September. 

There  are  men  who  lead  astray  other  men's  wives,  de- 
ceive thera,  and  afterwards  throw  them  aside  and  quietly 
resume  their  every-day  life.  I  have  never  done  any  such 
thing,  and  if  Aniela  had  been  my  victim  I  should  have 
wiped  the  dust  from  off  her  path;  no  human  power 
could  have  torn  me  from  her.  There  are  greater  crimes 
than  mine,  but  upon  me  has  fallen  such  a  burden  that  it 
gives  me  the  impression  of  an  exceptional  punishment ; 
and  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  my  love  must  have  been 
a  terrible  crime. 

This  is  a  kind  of  instinctive  fear,  against  which  scepti- 
cism is  no  safeguard.  And  yet  by  all  moral  laws  it  must 
be  admitted  that  it  would  be  a  greater  offence  to  lead  a 
woman  to  ruin  without  love,  and  do  from  calculation 
what  I  did  from  a  deep  love.  Surely  the  responsibility 
cannot  be  greater  for  an  immense,  overpowering  feeling 
than  for  a  mean  little  weakness. 

No  !  therefore  my  love  is,  above  all,  an  awful  calamity. 
A  man  free  from  prejudices  can  imagine  how  he  would 
feel  if  he  were  swayed  by  prejudice ;  so,  too,  a  man  who 
doubts  may  imagine  how  he  could  pray  if  he  had  the 
faith.  I  not  only  have  the  feeling,  but  it  breaks  forth 
into  a  complaint,  almost  like  a  sincere  prayer,  and  I  say : 
"  If  I  am  guilty,  0  God !  I  have  been  punished  severely, 
and  a  little  mercy  might  be  shown  to  me."  But  I  cannot 
even  imagine  in  what  shape  that  mercy  could  come  to  me 
now  !     It  is  impossible  ! 


14  September. 

They  must  have  gone  back  to  Ploszow  by  this  time.  I 
still  think  of  Aniela  very  often,  for  we  cannot  wipe  out 
the  past ;  especially  when  we  have  nothing  to  look  for  in 
the  future ;  and  I  have  nothing,  nothing  at  all.  If  I  had 
faith  I  might  become  a  priest ;  if  I  were  a  man  who  de- 


384  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

nies  the  existence  of  God  I  might  become  a  convert. 
But  within  me  the  organs  with  w^hich  we  believe  are 
withered,  as  sometimes  a  limb  withers.  I  do  not  know 
anything  except  that  in  my  sorrows  I  do  not  find  comfort 
in  religion. 

When  Aniela  married  Kromitzki,  I  thought  everything 
between  us  was  over.  I  was  mistaken.  It  is  only  now 
I  have  the  full  conviction  that  everything  is  over ;  for 
now  we  are  divided  not  only  by  our  will  and  my  depar- 
ture, but  by  something  that  is  beyond  us,  by  forces  of 
nature  independent  of  us.  We  are  like  two  parallel 
lines  that  can  never  meet,  though  we  wish  for  it  ever  so 
much.  On  Aniela's  line  there  will  be  suffering,  but  there 
will  be  also  new  worlds,  a  new  life  ;  on  mine  there  is 
nothing  but  solitude.  She  doubtless  understands  that 
as  well  as  I.  I  wonder  whether  sometimes  she  says  to 
herself :  "  It  is  I  who,  without  intending  it,  have  ruined 
that  man."  It  does  not  matter  much  to  me,  and  yet  I 
should  like  to  know  that  she  is  sorry  for  me.  Maybe 
she  will  feel  a  little  sorry  until  her  child  is  born.  Af- 
ter that  all  her  feelings  will  flow  into  one  channel,  and, 
for  her,  I  shall  not  exist  any  longer.  That  also  is  a  law 
of  nature,  —  an  excellent  law. 


16  September. 

I  saw  to-day  on  an  advertisement  in  big  letters  the 
name  of  Clara  Hilst.  I  now  remembered  that  she  had 
told  me  in  her  last  letter  that  she  was  going  to  Berlin. 
She  is  here,  and  she  is  going  to  give  several  concerts. 
At  the  time,  the  news  neither  pleased  nor  displeased  me. 
Now,  in  proportion  as  my  nervous  restlessness  increases, 
the  sensation  grows  more  distinct,  and  takes  a  twofold 
shape :  the  thought  that  she  is  near  acts  soothingly  on 
me,  but  the  thought  is  sufficient,  and  I  would  rather  not 
see  her ;  and  when  I  say  to  myself  that  I  ought  to  call 
on  her  it  gives  me  an  unpleasant  sensation.     Clara  has 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  38b 

that  inquisitive  solicitude  that  wants  to  know  everything 
and  asks  questions.  She  has  a  strong  leaning  towards 
romantic  situations,  and  the  firm  belief  that  friendship 
is  a  remedy  for  all  evils.  For  me  to  make  confidences 
is  simply  impossible.  I  often  lack  the  strength  even  to 
think  of  what  has  happened. 


17  September. 
Why  do  I  wake  up  in  the  morning  ?  Why  do  I  ex- 
ist ?  And  what  do  I  care  for  acquaintances  or  people  in 
general  ?  I  did  not  go  to  see  Clara,  because  she  can  have 
nothing  to  say  to  me  that  could  possibly  interest  me,  and 
it  wearies  nie  beforehand.  The  whole  world  is  as  en- 
tirely indifferent  to  me  as  I  am  to  the  world. 


18  September. 

I  did  well  to  write  to  my  aunt.  If  I  had  not  done  so 
ahe  would  have  come  here.     She  writes  thus  :  — 

"  Your  letter  came  to  hand  the  same  da,y  that  Celina 
and  Aniela  arrived.  How  are  you  now,  my  dearest  boy  ? 
You  say  that  you  are  all  right,  but  is  that  really  and 
truly  so  ?  What  did  the  doctors  in  Berlin  say,  and  how 
long  do  you  think  of  remaining  there  ?  Send  me  a  tele- 
gram whether  you  are  still  there,  and  I  will  come  to  you  at 
once.  Celina  says  you  went  away  so  suddenly  that  she 
and  Aniela  were  terribly  frightened.  If  you  had  not 
mentioned  that  the  doctor  most  likely  will  advise  a  sea 
voyage,  I  should  have  started  off  at  once  after  receiving 
your  letter.  It  is  only  some  fifteen  hours  by  rail,  and  I 
feel  stronger  than  ever.  The  congestions  I  used  to  have 
have  not  returned.  I  am  very  anxious  about  you,  and 
do  not  like  the  idea  of  the  sea  at  all.  You  are  used  to 
that  sort  of  thing,  but  I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  ships 
and  storms.  Celina  is  quite  well,  and  Aniela  fairly  so. 
I   hear  that  you  have   been   told    the    news.      Before 

25 


38G  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

leaving  Vienna  they  consulted  a  specialist,  and  he  said 
there  was  no  doubt  whatever  about  Aniela's  state.  Ce- 
lina is  overjoyed,  and  1  too  am  glad.  Perhaps  this  will 
induce  Krouiitzki  to  give  up  his  speculations  and  settle 
at  home.  Aniela  will  now  be  altogether  happy,  having 
an  aim  in  life.  She  looked  rather  tired  and  as  if  op- 
pressed when  she  came  back,  but  that  may  be  only  the 
consequence  of  the  journey. 

"  Sniatynski's  child  has  been  very  bad  with  croup,  but 
is  better  now." 

Heading  my  aunt's  letter  gave  me  the  impression  that 
there  is  no  room  for  me  among  them,  especially  near 
Aniela.  Even  my  memory  will  soon  become  unpleasant 
to  her. 


19  September. 

I  cannot  imagine  myself  as  living  a  year  or  two  hence. 
What  shall  I  do  ?  Such  utter  aimlessness  ought  to  debar 
one  from  life.  Properly  speaking,  there  is  no  room  for 
me  anywhere. 

I  did  not  go  to  see  Clara,  but  met  her  in  the  Friedrichs- 
strasse.  Seeing  me  she  grew  pale  from  joy  and  emotion, 
and  greeted  me  with  such  effusion  that  it  pleased  and 
pained  me  at  the  same  time.  I  was  conscious  that  my 
cordiality  towards  her  was  a  mere  outward  form,  and 
that  I  did  not  derive  any  pleasure  from  the  meeting. 
When  she  had  recovered  from  the  surprise  at  meeting 
me  thus  unexpectedly,  she  scrutinized  my  face  anxiously. 
Truly  I  must  have  presented  a  strange  sight ;  and  my 
hair  has  become  much  grayer  too.  She  began  to  inquire 
after  my  health,  and  in  spite  of  my  friendship  for  her,  I 
felt  that  to  see  her  often  would  be  more  than  I  could 
stand.  I  resolved  to  put  myself  on  guard  against  this  ; 
I  told  her  that  I  did  not  feel  very  well,  and  was  shortly 
going  away  to  a  warmer  climate.  She  tried  to  persuade 
me  to  come  and  see  her ;  than  asked  after  my  aunt,  Pani 
Celina,  and  Aniela.     I  put  her  off  with  general  remarks. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  387 

I  thought  to  myself  that  she  perhaps  is  the  only  being 
who  would  have  understood  me,  aud  yet  I  felt  that  I  could 
not  open  my  heart  to  her. 

Nevertheless  I  am  still  susceptible  to  human  kindness. 
At  moments,  when  those  honest  blue  eyes  of  Clara's 
looked  into  mine  with  such  kindliness  and  such  keen 
scrutiny,  as  if  they  wanted  to  look  into  my  very  soul, 
her  goodness  humiliated  me  so  that  I  felt  a  desire  to 
weep.  Clara,  in  spite  of  my  effort  to  seem  as  usual, 
noticed  that  I  was  changed,  and  with  quick  feminine 
intuition  she  guessed  that  I  speak,  live,  almost  think 
mechanically,  and  that  my  soul  is  half  dead  within  me. 
She  left  off  all  searchings  and  inquiries,  but  became  very 
tender.  I  saw  that  she  was  afraid  of  wearying  me.  She 
also  tried  to  make  me  understand  that  in  the  tenderness 
she  was  showing  there  was  no  concealed  intention  of  win- 
ning my  regard,  but  only  the  desire  to  comfort  me.  And 
it  did  comfort  me,  but  I  could  not  help  feeling  very  tired. 
My  mind  is  not  capable  of  any  concentration,  any  effort 
to  maintain  a  conversation,  even  with  a  friend.  And 
besides,  since  the  one  aim  of  my  life  has  vanished  from 
my  eyes,  everything  appears  to  me  so  empty  that  I  have 
continually  the  question  in  my  mind :  "  What  is  the  use 
of  it  ?  what  can  it  matter  now  ?  " 


21  September. 
Never  in  my  life  have  I  passed  a  more  terrible  night. 
I  had  a  sensation  of  terror,  as  if  I  descended  by  endless 
steps  into  deeper  and  deeper  darkness,  full  of  horrible, 
indefined,  moving  shapes.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  leave 
Berlin  ;  I  cannot  breathe  under  that  heavy,  leaden  sky. 
I  will  go  back  to  Rome,  to  my  house  on  the  Babuino,  and 
settle  there  for  good.  I  think  my  accounts  with  Aniela 
and  the  world  in  general  may  be  considered  as  closed, 
and  henceforth  I  will  quietly  vegetate  at  Rome  until  my 
time  comes.  Anything  for  tranquillity !  Yesterday's 
visit  to  Clara  convinced  me  that  even  if  I  wished  it,  I 


388  WITHOUT  DOGMA, 

cannot  live  with  others,  since  I  have  nothing  wherewith 
to  repay  their  kindness.  I  am  excluded  from  general 
life  and  stand  outside,  and  though  I  am  conscious  of  the 
indescribable  solitude,  I  have  no  wish  to  go  back.  The 
idea  of  Rome  and  my  hermitage  on  the  Babuino  smiles 
upon  me  ;  it  is  a  pale,  sorrowful  smile,  but  I  prefer  it  to 
anything  else.  There  I  spread  my  wings  to  tiy  out  into 
the  world,  and  thither  Igo  back  with  broken  wings,— 
to  wait  for  the  end. 

I  am  writing  mostly  in  the  morning,  for  at  night  I 
always  descend  to  those  dark  regions  wherein  fear 
dwells.  To-day  1  shall  go  to  the  concert  and  say  good-by 
to  Clara.  To-morrow  I  depart.  On  the  way  I  may  stop 
at  Vienna,  perhaps  see  Angeli,  but  am  not  certain.  I  am 
never  certain  how  I  shall  feel,  or  what  I  shall  do  the 
next  day. 

I  received  to-day  a  note  from  Clara,  in  which  she  asks 
me  to  come  and  see  her  after  the  concert.  I  shall  go  to 
the  concert  because  there  are  so  many  healthy-minded 
people  there  that  I  feel  safer  in  their  midst ;  and  they 
do  not  tire  me,  as  they  are  personally  unknown  to  me ;  I 
see  only  the  crowd.  But  I  shall  not  go  to  Clara.  She 
is  too  kind.  It  is  said  of  persons  dying  from  starvation 
that  for  some  time  before  their  death  they  cannot  bear 
the  sight  of  food.  In  the  same  way  my  spiritual  organ- 
ism cannot  stand  sympathy  and  kindness.  It  cannot  bear 
memories  either.  It  is  a  very  small  thing,  but  I  know 
now  why  that  visit  to  Clara  was  such  a  trial  to  my  nerves. 
She  uses  the  same  scent  I  brought  from  Vienna  for  Aniela. 
I  have  noticed  the  same  thing  before,  that  nothing  recalls 
to  the  mind  a  certain  person  so  distinctly  as  when  one 
inhales  the  perfume  she  is  in  the  habit  of  using. 


22  September. 
I  have  broken  down  at  last.    I  caught  a  chill  yesterday 
coming  from  the  concert-room,  where  the  air  was  very 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  389 

close.  I  did  not  put  on  my  overcoat,  and  when  I  arrived 
at  the  hotel  I  was  chilled  to  the  bone.  Every  breath  I 
draw  gives  me  a  sensation  as  if  my  lungs  in  expanding 
came  in  contact  with  two  rows  of  needles  hidden  under 
the  shoulder-blade.  I  feel  alternatel}^  very  hot  and  very 
cold.  I  am  continually  thirsty.  At  times  I  feel  so  weak 
that  I  could  not  go  downstairs.  There  is  no  question  now 
about  going  away  ;  I  could  not  get  into  the  carriage  with- 
out help.  While  writing  I  hear  my  own  breath  coming 
three  times  as  quick  and  loud  as  usual.  I  am  quite  cer- 
tain that  but  for  my  nerves  the  sudden  chill  would  not 
have  done  me  any  harm,  but  in  my  present  state  of 
nervous  prostration  I  have  lost  all  power  of  resistance. 
It  is  undoubtedly  inflammation  of  the  lungs. 

I  shall  keep  up  as  long  as  I  can.  In  the  morning  as 
soon  as  I  felt  ill,  I  wrote  to  my  aunt,  telling  her  I  was 
all  right,  and  would  leave  Berlin  in  a  few  days.  In  a 
few  days,  if  I  am  still  conscious,  I  shall  write  the  same. 
I  asked  her  to  send  all  letters  and  telegrams  to  my  banker 
here.  I  shall  take  care  that  nobody  at  Ploszow  knows 
about  my  illness.  How  very  fortunate  I  said  good-by  to 
Clara  yesterday. 


23  September. 

I  am  worse  than  yesterday.  I  am  feverish  and  at  times 
conscious  that  my  thoughts  wander,  but  I  have  not  lain 
down.  When  I  shut  my  eyes  the  border  line  between  the 
real  and  the  outcome  of  my  sick  brain  seems  to  vanish 
altogether.  But  I  have  still  control  over  my  senses.  I 
am  only  afraid  the  fever  will  overpower  me  and  I  shall 
lose  consciousness  altogether. 

The  thought  comes  now  and  then  into  my  mind  that  I, 
a  man  more  richly  endowed  by  fate  than  so  many  others, 
who  could  have  a  home,  n,  family,  be  surrounded  by  lov- 
ing hearts,  sits  here  lonely  and  in  sickness,  in  a  strange 
place,  with  nobody  near  him  to  give  him  a  glass  of  water. 
Aniela  would  be  near  me  too  —      I  cannot  go  on. 


390  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

14  October. 

I  resume  my  writing  after  an  interval  of  three  weeks. 
Clara  has  left  me.  Seeing  me  on  a  fair  way  to  recovery 
she  went  to  Hanover  and  promised  to  come  back  in  ten 
days.  She  nursed  me  during  the  whole  time  of  my  ill- 
ness. It  was  she  who  brought  a  doctor  to  me.  I  should 
probably  have  died  but  for  her.  I  do  not  remember 
whether  it  was  the  third  or  fourth  day  of  ray  illness  she 
came  here.  I  was  conscious,  but  at  the  same  time  as 
indifferent  as  if  it  were  not  to  me  that  she  had  come,  or 
as  if  her  being  there  were  an  every-day  occurrence.  She 
came  with  the  doctor,  whose  thick,  curly,  white  hair 
attracted  my  attention  and  fascinated  me.  After  ex- 
amining me  he  asked  me  several  questions,  first  in  Ger- 
man, then  in  French ;  and  though  I  understood  what  he 
said,  I  did  not  feel  the  slightest  inclination  to  answer, 
could  not  make  an  effort, — as  if  my  will-power  had  been 
struck  down  by  the  disease,  as  well  as  the  body. 

They  worried  me  that  day  with  cupping,  and  then  I 
remained  quiet  without  any  sensations.  Sometimes  I 
thought  that  I  was  going  to  die,  but  this  did  not  trouble 
me  any  more  than  what  was  going  on  around  me.  Perhaps 
in  severe  illness,  even  when  conscious,  we  lose  the  sense 
of  proportion  between  great  and  small  matters,  and  for 
some  reason  or  other  our  attention  is  mainly  fixed  upon 
small  things.  Thus,  for  instance,  besides  the  doctor's 
curly  hair,  I  was  greatly  interested  in  seeing  them  push 
back  the  upper  and  lower  bolt  of  the  door  of  the  room 
adjoining  mine,  which  Clara  intended  to  occupy.  I  re- 
member that  I  could  not  take  my  eyes  off  that  door,  as 
if  something  depended  on  whether  it  would  open  or  not. 
Presently  the  surgeon  came  in  who  was  to  look  after  me 
under  Clara's  supervision.  He  began  to  say  something 
to  me,  but  Clara  motioned  him  to  be  silent. 

I  am  still  very  tired,  and  must  leave  off. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  391 


16  October. 
My  nerves  have  quieted  down  during  that  long  illness. 
I  have  none  of  those  terrors  that  haunted  me  before.  I 
only  wish  Clara  would  come  back  as  quickly  as  possible. 
It  is  not  so  much  a  longing  for  her  presence,  as  the  sel- 
fishness of  the  convalescent,  who  feels  that  nothing  can 
replace  her  tender  care  and  nursing.  I  know  she  will  not 
dwell  close  to  me  any  longer ;  but  her  presence  soothes 
me.  Weakness  and  helplessness  cling  to  the  protecting 
power  as  a  child  clings  to  its  mother.  I  am  convinced 
that  no  other  woman  would  have  done  for  me  what  Clara 
did ;  other  women  would  have  thought  more  of  the  pro- 
prieties than  of  saving  a  man's  life.  Thinking  of  this, 
bitterness  rises  in  my  throat,  and  there  is  one  name  on 
my  lips —  But  those  are  things  better  left  alone,  as 
long  as  I  have  not  strength  enough  to  think  about  them. 
Clara  used  to  sleep  fully  dressed  on  the  sofa  in  the  room 
next  to  mine,  with  the  door  open.  Whenever  I  moved 
she  was  at  once  at  my  bedside :  I  saw  her  by  night,  lean- 
ing over  my  bed,  her  hair  disarranged,  and  eyes  winking 
with  sleeplessness  and  fatigue.  She  herself  measured 
out  my  physic,  and  raised  my  head  from  the  pillow. 
When,  in  moments  of  consciousness,  I  wanted  to  thank 
her,  she  put  a  finger  to  her  lips  as  a  sign  that  the  doctor 
had  enjoined  quietness.  I  do  not  know  how  many  nights 
she  spent  at  my  bedside.  She  looked  very  tired  in  the 
daytime,  and,  when  sitting  near  me  in  an  armchair,  some- 
times dozed  off  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence.  Waking  up 
she  smiled  at  me,  and  dozed  again.  At  nights  she  walked 
to  and  fro  in  her  own  room,  in  order  to  keep  awake ;  but 
so  softly  that  I  could  not  have  known  it  but  for  the 
shadow  moving  on  the  wall,  which  I  saw  through  the 
open  door.  Once,  when  she  was  near  me,  not  knowing 
how  to  express  my  gratitude,  I  raised  her  hand  to  my 
lips  ;  she  stooped  down  quickly,  and,  before  I  could  pre- 
vent it,  kissed  my  hand.  But  I  must  confess  that  I  was 
not  always  so  grateful.   Sick  people  as  a  rule  are  fanciful 


392  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

and  irritable ;"  I  felt  irritated  at  her  being  so  tall.  I  felt 
a  kind  of  resentment  that  she  was  not  like  Aniela  ;  for  so 
long  a  time  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  acknowledging 
grace  and  beauty  only  in  so  far  as  they  approached  the 
grace  and  beauty  of  that  other  one. 

Sometimes,  looking  at  Clara,  I  irritated  myself  in- 
wardly by  the  most  singular  thought  that  she  is  beauti- 
ful, not  because  nature  meant  her  to  be  beautiful,  —  not 
by  right  of  her  race,  —  but  by  a  fortunate  accident  of 
birth.  Sometimes  other  beautiful  feminine  heads  made 
upon  me  the  same  impression.  These  are  subtle  shades 
which  only  very  delicate  and  sensitive  nerves  can 
perceive. 

There  were  moments,  especially  at  night,  when,  look- 
ing at  Clara's  face  grown  thin  and  tired  with  watching 
me,  I  had  a  delusion  that  I  saw  the  other  one.  This  hap- 
pened when  she  was  sitting  in  the  half-light,  a  certain 
distance  from  my  bed.  This  delusion  was  fostered  by 
fever  and  a  sick  brain,  for  which  impossibilities  do  not 
exist.  Sometimes  my  mind  wandered  and  I  called  Clara 
by  that  other's  name,  spoke  to  her  as  if  she  were  Aniela. 
I  remember  it  as  if  in  a  dream. 


17  October. 
The  banker  B.  sent  me  some  letters  written  by  my 

aunt.  She  asks  me  about  my  plans  for  the  future.  She 
writes  even  about  the  crops,  but  nothing  about  the  in- 
mates of  Ploszow.  I  do  not  even  know  whether  they 
be  alive  or  dead.  What  an  irritating  way  of  writing  let- 
ters. What  do  I  care  about  the  crops,  and  about  the  whole 
estate  ?  I  replied  at  once,  and  could  not  disguise  my 
displeasure. 

18  October. 
To-day  I  received  a  telegram  from  Kromitzki  addressed 

to  Warsaw.     My  aunt,  instead  of  sending  its  contents  in 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  393 

another  telegram,  put  it  into  an  envelope,  and  sent  it  by 
post.  Kromitzki  entreats  me  to  save  my  own  money  and 
his  whole  future  by  sending  him  another  twenty-five 
thousand  roubles.  Reading  this  I  merely  shrugged  my 
shoulders.  What  do  I  care  now  for  Kromitzki  or  my 
money  ?  Let  it  go  with  the  rest !  If  he  only  knew  the 
reason  I  helped  him  the  first  time,  he  would  not  ask  me 
now.  Let  him  bear  his  losses  as  quietly  as  I  bear  mine. 
Moreover,  there  is  awaiting  him  the  "  great  news  ; "  that 
ought  to  comfort  him.  Rejoice  as  much  as  you  can ; 
have  as  many  children  as  you  like ;  but  if  you  think  I 
am  going  to  provide  for  their  future,  you  ask  a  little  too 
much. 

If  at  least  she  had  not  sacrificed  me  with  such  incon- 
siderate egoism  to  her  so-called  "  principles."  But  enough 
of  this ;  my  brain  cannot  stand  it,  —  let  me  at  least  be  ill 
in  peace. 


20  October. 

They  cannot  let  me  alone,  —  found  me  even  here. 
Again  for  two  days  I  had  no  peace ;  again  I  press  both 
hands  against  my  head  to  stop  that  whirring  sound  in  my 
brain.  I  think  again  of  Ploszow  and  of  her,  and  of  the 
solitude  that  is  awaiting  me.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  when 
suddenly  something  goes  out  of  our  life  for  which  we 
lived  exclusively.  I  do  not  know  whether  illness  has 
weakened  my  brain,  but  I  simply  cannot  understand  vari- 
ous phenomena  that  I  perceive  within  myself.  It  seems 
as  if  jealousy  had  outlived  my  love. 

It  is  a  twofold  jealousy,  — a  jealousy  not  only  of  facts, 
but  of  feelings.  I  am  torn  by  the  thought  that  the  child 
which  is  to  be  born  will  take  Aniela's  heart  from  me,  and 
what  is  more,  and  concerns  me  most,  it  will  bring  her 
closer  to  Kromitzki.  I  would  not  have  her  now  if  she 
were  free ;  but  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  her  loving 
her  husband.     I  would  give  all  that  remains   of  life  if 


394  WITHOUT  dogma. 

nobody  would  love  her,  and  she  not  love  anybody  any 
more.  Under  such  conditions  life  might  be  endurable 
stilL 


21  October. 

If  what  is  now  in  my  mind  does  not  save  me,  I  shall 
again  fall  ill,  or  perhaps  go  mad.  I  am  making  up  my 
accounts.  Is  there  anything  owing  to  me  from  life  ? 
Notliing.  What  is  awaiting  me  in  the  future  ?  Nothing. 
If  so,  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  make  a  present 
of  myself  to  somebody  whom  that  present  would  make 
happy.  For  my  life,  my  intellect,  my  abilities,  —  for  the 
whole  of  my  own  self  1  would  not  give  a  stiver.  More- 
over, I  do  not  love  Clara;  but  if  she  loves  me,  and  sees 
her  happiness  in  me,  it  would  be  cruel  to  refuse  her  what 
I  hold  so  very  cheap.  I  should  consider  it  my  duty  to 
tell  her  what  she  is  taking ;  worse  for  her  if  it  does  not 
discourage  her,  —  but  that  will  be  her  concern. 

This  plan  attracts  me  chiefly  for  one  reason,  —  namely, 
it  widens  the  gulf  that  separates  me  from  the  other  one. 
I  will  prove  to  her  that,  as  she  has  taken  her  own  way,  I 
am  able  to  take  mine.  Then  there  will  be  an  end  of  it. 
But  I  am  thinking  of  her  still !  I  notice  it,  and  it  puts 
me  into  a  rage.  Perhaps  it  is  hatred  now ;  but  it  is  not 
indifference. 

Pani  Kromitzka  probably  fancied  that  I  tore  myself 
away  forced  by  circumstances ;  she  will  see  now  that  it 
was  also  my  wish.  And  the  thicker  the  wall  I  raise 
up  between  us,  the  sooner  I  shall  be  able  to  banish  her 
from  my  mind.  As  to  Clara,  I  repeat  that  I  do  not  love 
her ;  but  she  loves  me.  Moreover,  I  owe  her  a  debt  of 
gratitude.  During  my  illness  there  were  moments  when 
I  considered  Clara's  devotedness  a  piece  of  German  sen- 
timentality, and  yet  the  other  one  would  not  have  found 
courage  enough  for  such  sentimentality.  It  would  be 
more  in  accordance  with  her  exalted  virtue  to  let  a  man 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  395 

die  than  to  see  him  without  his  necktie  ;  this  is  a  free- 
dom reserved  for  the  lawful  husband.  Clara  did  not  care 
anything  about  such  things ;  she  gave  up  for  me  her 
music,  exposed  herself  to  trouble,  sleepless  nights,  and 
possibly  to  the  world's  comments,  and  stood  by  me.  I 
contracted  towards  her  a  debt,  and  am  going  to  pay  it. 
I  pay  it  badly  and  in  bad  faith ;  for  I  offer  to  her 
what  I  do  not  value  myself,  —  the  mere  remnants  of 
what  was  once  a  man.  But  if  she  values  it,  let  it  be 
hers. 

To  my  aunt  it  will  be  a  disappointment ;  it  will  hurt 
her  family  pride  and  patriotic  feelings.  Yet,  if  my  aunt 
could  but  know  what  has  been  lately  going  on  in  my 
heart,  she  would  prefer  this  matrimonial  scheme  to  that 
other  love ;  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  as  to  that. 
What  does  it  matter  that  Clara's  ancestors  were  most 
probably  weavers  ?  I  have  no  prejudices  ;  I  have  only 
nerves.  Any  casual  view  I  take  tends  rather  towards 
liberalism.  Sometimes  I  fancy  that  people  professing 
to  be  liberals  are  more  narrow  in  their  views  than  con- 
servatives ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  liberalism  itself  is 
resting  on  a  larger  basis  than  conservatism,  and  more  in 
accord  with  Christ's  teachings  ;  but  I  am  wholly  indif- 
ferent to  both  parties.  It  is  scarcely  worth  speaking  or 
reasoning  about  them.  Real  unhappiness  shows  us  the 
emptiness  of  mere  partisan  hair-splittings.  Involuntarily 
I  fall  to  thinking,  "  How  will  Aniela  receive  the  news  of 
my  resolve  ?  "  I  have  been  so  accustomed  to  feel  through 
her  that  the  painful  habit  still  clings  to  me. 


22  October, 

This  morning  I  sent  the  letter  to  Clara.  To-morrow  I 
shall  have  a  reply,  or  perhaps  Clara  herself  will  come  to- 
night. In  the  afternoon  they  sent  me  a  second  despatch 
from  Kromitzki.  It  expresses  as  much  despair  as  a  few 
words  can  contain.   Things  seem  to  have  turned  out  very 


396  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

badly,  indeed;  even  I  did  not  think  ruin  would  come  so 
quickly.  Some  unexpected  circumstances  must  have  in- 
tervened that  even  Kromitzki  could  not  have  foreseen. 
The  loss  I  incur  does  not  make  a  great  difference  to  me ; 
I  shall  always  be  what  I  was,  — but  Kromitzki  ?  Why 
should  I  deceive  myself  ?  There  lurks  somewhere  in  a 
corner  of  my  heart  a  certain  satisfaction  at  his  ruin,  —  if 
only  for  the  reason  that  these  two  will  be  now  entirely 
dependent  on  us ;  that  is,  upon  my  aunt,  who  is  the  ad- 
ministrator of  the  Ploszow  estate,  and  myself.  In  the 
mean  while  I  do  not  intend  to  reply  at  all.  If  I  changed 
my  intention  it  would  be  to  send  him  my  congratulation 
at  the  expected  family  increase.  Later  on  it  will  be  dif- 
ferent. I  will  secure  their  future ;  they  shall  have  enough 
to  live  upon  and  more. 


23  October. 
Clara  has  not  arrived,  and  up  to  this  moment  there  is 
no  answer.  This  is  the  more  strange  as  she  used  to 
write  every  day,  inquiring  after  my  health.  Her  silence 
would  not  surprise  me  if  I  thought  she  wanted  even  ten 
minutes  to  make  up  her  mind.  I  shall  wait  patiently ; 
but  it  would  be  better  if  she  did  not  put  it  off.  I  feel 
that  if  I  had  not  sent  off  that  letter,  I  should  send  now 
another  like  it;  but  if  I  could  take  it  back  I  should 
probably  do  so. 


24  October. 


This  is  what  Clara  writes ; 


Dear  Monsieur  Leon, —  Upon  receiving  your  letter  I  felt 
so  foolishly  happy  that  I  wanted  to  start  for  Berlin  at  once. 
But  it  is  because  I  love  you  sincerely  that  T  listened  to  the  voice 
which  said  to  me  that  the  greatest  love  ought  not  to  be  the 
greatest  egoism,  and  that  I  had  no  right  to  sacrifice  you  for 
myself. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  397 

You  do  not  love  me,  Monsieur  Leon.  I  would  give  my  life 
were  it  otherwise;  but  you  do  not  love  me.  Your  letter  Las  been 
written  in  a  moment  of  impulse  and  despair.  From  the  first  in- 
stant of  meeting  you  in  Berlin  1  noticed  that  you  were  neither 
well  in  body  nor  easy  in  your  mind,  and  it  troubled  me  ;  the 
best  proof  of  this  is  that  although  you  had  wished  me  good-by, 
I  sent  every  day  to  the  hotel  inquiring  whether  you  had  gone, 
until  I  was  told  you  were  ill.  Afterwards,  nursing  you  in  your 
illness,  I  became  convinced  that  my  second  fear  had  been  also 
right,  and  that  you  had  some  hidden  sorrow,  one  of  those  pain- 
ful disappointments,  after  which  it  is  difficult  to  be  reconciled 
to  life. 

Now  I  have  a  conviction  —  and  God  knows  how  heavily  it 
weighs  upon  my  heart  —  that  you  want  to  bind  your  life  to 
mine  in  order  to  drown  certain  memories,  to  forget  and  put  a 
barrier  between  you  and  the  past.  In  the  face  of  that  is  it  pos- 
sible that  I  could  agree  to  what  you  ask?  In  refusing  your  hand, 
the  worst  that  can  happen  to  me  is  that  I  shall  feel  very  un- 
happy, but  I  shall  not  have  to  reproach  myself  with  having  be- 
come a  burden  and  a  dead  weight  upon  you.  I  have  loved  you 
from  the  first  time  we  met,  therefore  it  is  nothing  new  to  me  ; 
and  I  have  got  used  to  the  sorrow  which  is  the  inevitable  con- 
sequence of  separation  and  the  hopeless  certainty  that  my  love 
will  never  be  returued.  But  even  if  my  life  be  sad,  I  can  weep 
either  with  tears  in  the  usual  woman-fashion,  or  through  my 
music  as  an  artist.  I  shall  always  have  that  comfort  at  least, 
that  when  you  think  of  me  it  will  be  as  a  dear  friend  or  sister. 
With  this  I  can  live.  But  if  I  were  your  wife  and  came  to  see 
that  you  regretted  your  impulsiveness,  were  not  happy,  perhaps 
learned  to  hate  me,  I  should  certainly  die.  Besides,  I  say  to 
myself  :  "  What  have  you  done  to  deserve  such  happiness?  "  It 
is  almost  impossible  to  imagine  perfect  happiness.  Can  you 
understand  that  one  may  love  somebody  with  all  one's  heart  in 
a  humble  spirit?     I  can  understand  it,  for  I  love  thus. 

What  I  am  going  to  say  seems  to  me  overbold,  yet  I  do  not 
feel  it  in  my  heart  to  give  up  hope  altogether.  Do  not  be  angry 
with  me;  God  is  merciful,  and  the  human  soul  is  so  athirst  for 
happiness  that  it  would  fain  leave  a  door  open  for  it  to  enter. 
If  you  ask  me  again  in  half  a  year,  a  year,  or  any  time  in  life 
the  same  question,  I  shall  consider  myself  rewarded  for  all  I 
have  suffered,  and  for  the  tears  I  am  shedding  even  at  this 
moment. 

Cłara< 


398  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

There  is  within  me  something  tliat  is  keenly  conscious 
and  can  appreciate  every  word  of  this  noble  letter.  Not 
a  syllable  is  lost  to  me,  and  I  say  to  myself :  "  All  the 
more  reason  for  asking  her  again ;  she  is  so  honest,  sim- 
ple, and  loving.  But  there  is  also  that  other  self,  very 
tired,  who  had  all  the  strength  taken  out  of  him,  who 
can  give  sympathy  but  no  love ;  because  he  has  staked 
his  all  upon  one  feeling,  and  sees  clearly  that  for  him 
there  is  no  return. 


28  October. 

I  am  quite  certain  that  Clara  will  not  come  back  to 
Berlin ;  and  what  is  more,  that  when  she  went  away  it 
was  with  the  intention  of  not  coming  back  again.  She 
wanted  to  avoid  my  gratitude.  I  think  of  her  gratefully 
and  sadly,  and  am  sorry  she  did  not  meet  a  different  man 
from  me.  There  is  such  an  irony  of  fate  in  this !  But 
what  is  the  use  of  deceiving  myself  ?  I  am  still  yoked 
to  my  memories.  I  see  before  me  Aniela,  as  she  ap- 
peared to  me  at  Warsaw,  as  I  saw  her  at  Ploszow  and 
Gastein ;  and  I  cannot  tear  myself  away  from  the  past. 
Besides,  it  has  absorbed  so  much  of  my  strength  and  life 
that  I  am  not  surprised  at  it.  The  difficulty  is,  not  to 
remember.  Every  instant  I  catch  myself  in  the  act  of 
thinking  about  Aniela,  and  I  have  to  remind  myself  that 
she  is  changed  now,  that  her  feelings  will  be  going,  have 
gone  already,  into  another  direction,  and  that  I  am  noth- 
ing to  her  now. 

Formerly  I  preferred  not  to  think  of  my  wrecked  con- 
dition, because  my  brain  could  not  stand  the  thought ; 
now  I  do  it  sometimes  on  purpose,  if  only  to  defend  my- 
self against  the  voice  that  calls  out :  "  Is  it  her  fault  ? 
and  how  do  you  know  what  is  passing  in  her  heart  ? 
She  would  not  be  a  woman  if  she  did  not  love  her  own 
child  when  it  comes  into  the  world,  but  who  told  you 
that  she  is  not  as  unhappy  as  you  are  ?  "     At  times  it 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  399 

seems  to  me  that  she  is  even  more  unhappy,  and  then  I 
wish  for  another  inflammation  of  the  lungs.  Life  with 
such  a  chaos  of  thoughts  is  impossible. 


30  October. 
With  my  returning  health  I  am  gradually  drifting 
back  into  the  magic  circle.  The  doctor  says  that  in  a 
few  days  I  shall  be  able  to  travel.  I  will  go  hence,  for 
it  is  too  near  Warsaw  and  Ploszow.  It  may  be  one  of 
my  nervous  whims,  but  I  feel  I  shall  be  better  and  more 
at  rest  in  Rome  on  the  Babuino.  I  do  not  promise  my- 
self to  forget  the  past ;  on  the  contrary,  I  shall  think  of 
it  from  morning  until  night,  but  the  thoughts  will  be  like 
unto  meditations  behind  cloister  walls.  Besides,  what 
can  I  know  of  how  it  will  be  ?  All  I  know  is  that  I 
cannot  remain  here  any  longer.  I  shall  call  upon  Angeli 
by  the  way ;  I  must  have  her  portrait  at  Rome. 


2  November. 

I  leave  Berlin,  I  renounce  Rome,  and  go  back  to  Plos- 
zow. I  wrote  some  time  ago  that  Aniela  is  not  only  the 
beloved  woman,  but  the  very  crown  of  my  head.  Yes,  it 
is  a  fact ;  let  it  be  called  by  any  name,  —  neurosis,  or  an 
old  man's  madness ;  I  have  got  it  in  my  blood  and  in  my 
soul. 

I  am  going  to  Ploszow.  I  will  serve  her,  take  care  of 
her,  do  for  her  what  I  can ;  and  for  all  reward  let  me  be 
able  to  look  at  her.  I  wonder  at  myself  that  I  fancied  I 
should  be  able  to  live  without  seeing  her.  One  letter 
from  my  aunt  brought  out  all  that  was  buried  within  me. 
My  aunt  says  :  — 

"  I  did  not  write  much  about  us,  because  I  had  noth- 
ing cheerful  to  tell  you ;  and  as  I  am  not  clever  at  dis- 
guising  things,   I   feared   I   should  make  you  uneasy, 


400  WITHOUT  DOGMA, 

knowing  that  you  were  not  well.  I  am  in  terrible  anx- 
iety about  Kromitzki,  and  should  like  to  have  your  ad- 
vice. Chwastowski  showed  me  his  son's  letter,  in  which 
he  says  that  Kromitzki's  affairs  are  in  a  deplorable  state, 
and  that  lie  is  threatened  with  legal  prosecution.  Every- 
body has  deceived  him.  He  suddenly  received  orders  to 
deliver  a  great  quantity  of  goods,  and  as  the  appointed 
term  was  very  short,  he  had  no  time  to  look  into  things 
and  see  whether  everything  was  as  it  should  be.  It 
turned  out  that  all  the  goods  were  bad,  —  imitations,  and 
second  and  third  rate  quality.  They  were  rejected ;  and 
in  addition  Kromitzki  is  threatened  with  a  trial  for  de- 
frauding the  agency.  God  grant  that  we  may  be  able  to 
prevent  this,  especially  as  he  is  innocent,  liuin  does 
not  matter,  provided  there  be  no  disgrace.  I  am  alto- 
gether at  a  loss  what  to  do  and  how  to  save  him.  I  do 
not  like  to  risk  the  money  I  intended  Aniela  to  have, 
and  yet  we  must  not  let  it  come  to  a  trial.  Tell  me 
what  to  do,  Leon ;  for  you  are  wise  and  will  know  what 
is  expedient  in  these  matters.  I  have  not  told  Celina 
anything  about  it,  nor  Aniela,  —  and  I  am  very  anxious 
about  Aniela.  I  cannot  understand  what  is  the  matter 
with  her.  Celina  is  the  worthiest  of  women,  but  she  al- 
ways had  exaggerated  ideas  about  modesty,  and  has 
brought  up  Aniela  in  the  same  way.  I  do  not  doubt  that 
Aniela  will  be  the  best  of  mothers,  but  now  I  am  quite 
angry  with  her.  A  married  woman  ought  to  be  prepared 
for  consequences,  and  Aniela  seems  to  be  in  despair, 
as  if  it  were  a  disgrace.  Nearly  every  day  I  see  traces 
of  tears  in  her  eyes.  It  torments  me  to  see  her  looking 
so  thin  and  pale,  with  those  dark  rings  under  her  eyes 
and  ready  to  burst  into  tears  at  the  slightest  provo- 
cation ;  and  there  is  always  an  expression  of  pain  and 
humiliation  in  her  face.  I  have  never  in  my  life  seen  a 
young  woman  so  distressed  at  her  situation.  I  tried  per- 
suasion and  I  tried  scolding,  —  all  in  vain.  Perhaps  I 
love  her  too  much,  and  in  my  old  age  am  losing  my 
former  energy  ;  but  then  she  is  such  an  e,ffectionate  crea* 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  401 

ture  !  If  you  only  knew  how  she  asks  after  you  day  by 
day,  whether  a  letter  has  arrived  and  if  you  were  well, 
when  you  will  be  going,  and  how  long  you  mean  to  stop 
at  Berlin.  She  knows  I  like  to  speak  about  you,  and  she 
makes  me  talk  for  hours.  God  give  her  strength  to  bear 
all  the  troubles  that  are  awaiting  her.  I  am  really  so 
concerned  about  her  health  that  I  positively  dare  not 
give  her  any  hint  about  her  husband's  position.  But 
sooner  or  later  it  must  come  to  her  ears.  I  have  not  said 
anything  to  Celina  either,  because  she  is  troubled  about 
Aniela,  and  cannot  understand  why  she  should  take  her 
position  so  tragically." 

Why  ?  I  alone  in  the  world  understand  and  could 
have  answered  that  question,  —  and  that  is  the  reason  I 
go  back  to  Ploszow.  It  is  not  her  position  she  takes 
tragically,  but  my  desertion.  My  despair  she  is  aware 
of,  the  sundering  of  those  ties  that  have  grown  dear  to 
her  from  the  time  when  after  so  much  suffering,  so  many 
efforts,  she  contrived  to  change  them  into  ideal  relations. 
Only  now  I  enter  into  her  thoughts,  into  her  very  soul. 
From  the  moment  I  came  back  to  Ploszow  there  arose  a 
struggle  between  duty  and  feeling  in  that  noble  heart. 
She  wished  to  remain  true  to  him  to  whom  she  had 
promised  her  faith,  because  her  spiritual  nature  abhors 
impurity  and  falsehood ;  and  at  the  same  time  she  could 
not  help  being  drawn  to  the  man  she  had  loved  with  all 
the  fresh  feelings  of  her  young  heart,  —  all  the  more  as 
the  man  was  near  her,  loved  her,  and  was  supremely  un- 
happy. Whole  months  had  passed  in  that  struggle.  At 
last  there  came  a  moment  of  peace,  when  the  feeling  had 
become  a  union  of  souls  so  pure  and  unearthly  that 
neither  her  modesty  nor  her  loyalty  could  take  exception 
to  it.  This  is  the  reason  of  her  unhappiness ;  I  am 
reading  now  her  soul  as  an  open  book,  —  therefore  I  go 
back. 

I  also  now  see  clearly  that  I  would  not  have  left  her  if 
I  had  had  a  complete  certainty  that  her  feelings  would 
outlast  all  changes  in  her  life.    The  mere  animal  jealousy 

26 


402  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

that  fills  my  mind  with  rage  because  another  has  rights 
over  her  which  are  denied  to  me  would  not  have  been 
sufficient  to  drive  me  away  from  the  one  woman  who  is 
all  the  world  to  me.  But  I  thought  that  the  child,  even 
before  it  was  born,  would  take  possession  of  her  heart, 
draw  her  closer  to  her  husband,  and  blot  me  out  of  her 
heart  and  life  forever. 

I  do  not  delude  myself  even  now,  for  I  know  that  I 
shall  not  be  to  her  what  I  have  been,  nor  what  I  might 
have  been  but  for  the  combined  forces  of  circumstances. 
I  might  have  been  the  dearest  and  only  one  for  her,  at- 
taching her  to  life  and  happiness  ;  now  it  will  be  quite 
different.  But  as  long  as  there  is  a  glimmering  spark  of 
feeling  for  me  I  will  not  leave  her,  because  I  cannot ;  I 
have  nowhere  to  go. 

Therefore  I  return ;  I  shall  nurse  that  spark,  fan  it  into 
life  again,  and  get  some  warmth  from  it  for  myself.  I  am 
reading  again  my  aunt's  words  :  ''If  you  only  knew  how 
she  asks  after  you  day  by  day,  whether  a  letter  has  ar- 
rived, and  if  you  were  well,  when  you  will  be  going,  and 
how  long  you  mean  to  stop  at  Berlin,"  and  I  cannot  fill 
myself  enough  with  these  words.  It  is  as  if  I  had  been 
starving,  and  somebody  had  given  me  a  piece  of  bread. 
I  am  eating  it,  and  feel  as  if  I  could  cry  from  sheer 
gratitude.  Perhaps  God's  mercy  toward  me  is  beginning 
to  appear  at  last.  For  I  feel  that  I  am  changed ;  the 
former  self  has  died  in  me.  I  shall  not  revolt  against 
her  will  any  more  ;  1  will  bear  everything,  will  soothe 
and  comfort  her ;  I  will  even  save  her  husband. 


4  November. 

After  thinking  it  over,  I  remain  two  days  more  at  Ber- 
lin. It  is  a  great  sacrifice  for  me,  because  I  can  scarcely 
contain  myself  in  my  impatience  ;  but  it  is  necessary  to 
send  a  letter  to  prepare  her  for  my  coming.  A  telegram 
might  alarm  her,  as  also  my  sudden  arrival.     I  have  sent 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  403 

off  a  cheerful  letter,  winding  up  with  a  friendly  message 
for  Aniela  as  if  nothing  ever  had  happened  between  us. 
I  want  her  to  understand  that  I  am  reconciled  to  my 
fate,  and  that  I  come  back  the  same  I  was  before  I  left 
her.  My  aunt  must  have  counted  upon  my  coming  on 
receipt  of  her  letter. 


Warsaw,  6  November. 

I  arrived  this  morning.  My  aunt  awaited  me  at  War- 
saw. At  Ploszow  things  are  a  little  better.  Aniela  is 
much  calmer.     There  is  no  news  from  Kromitzki. 

The  poor  old  aunt  met  me  with  a  horrified  exclama- 
tion, —  "  Leon,  whatever  has  happened  to  you  ?  "  She 
did  not  know  I  had  been  so  ill,  and  protracted  illness 
alters  one's  appearance ;  and  my  hair  has  grown  quite 
gray  on  the  temples.  I  even  thought  of  darkening  it 
artificially.  I  do  not  want  to  look  old  now.  My  aunt, 
too,  had  changed  very  much,  and  although  it  is  not  so 
long  since  we  parted,  I  found  a  great  difference  in  her 
appearance.  Her  face  has  lost  its  familiar  determined 
expression,  though  her  features  have  grown  more  im- 
movable. I  noticed  that  her  head  is  trembling  a  little, 
especially  when  she  is  listening  with  deep  attention. 
When  with  some  inward  trouble  I  inquired  after  her 
health,  she  said,  with  her  usual  frankness,  "After  my 
return  from  Gastein  I  felt  very  well ;  but  now  every- 
thing seems  to  go  wrong,  and  I  feel  that  my  time  is 
coming.  We  Ploszowskis  all  end  with  paralysis,  and  I 
feel  a  numbness  in  my  arm  every  morning.  But  it  is 
not  worth  talking  about ;  it  will  be  as  God  ordains." 

She  would  not  say  anything  more.  Instead  of  that  we 
took  counsel  together  how  to  help  Kromitzki,  and  we  re- 
solved not  to  let  it  come  to  a  criminal  prosecution  if  we 
could  help  it.  We  could  not  save  him  from  ruin,  as  this 
would  have  involved  our  own  ruin,  which,  if  only  in  con- 
sideration for  Aniela,  we  must  avoid.     I  made  a  proposi- 


404  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

tioii  to  settle  Kromitzki  here,  by  giving  him  one  of  the 
larger  farms.  God  kuows  how  my  mind  recoiled  from 
the  very  thought  of  his  being  always  with  Aniela,  but  to 
make  my  sacrifice  complete  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to 
swallow  the  bitter  draught. 

My  aunt  offers  one  of  her  farms,  and  I  am  furnishing 
the  necessary  capital  to  establish  him,  which,  taken  to- 
gether, will  be  Aniela's  dowry.  Kromitzki  will  have 
to  pass  his  word  not  to  embark  in  further  speculation. 
But  before  that  can  be  done  we  must  get  him  free,  and 
for  that  purpose  we  are  going  to  send  out  an  able  lawyer 
with  instructions  and  ample  means. 

When  we  had  finished  our  consultation  I  began  to  in- 
quire after  Aniela.  My  aunt  told  me,  among  other 
things,  that  she  was  very  much  changed,  and  her  former 
beauty  almost  gone.  Hearing  this,  I  felt  the  more  pity 
for  her.  Nothing  will  be  able  to  turn  my  heart  from 
her.  She  is  the  very  crown  of  my  head.  I  wanted  to 
start  off  at  once  for  Ploszow,  but  ray  aunt  said  she  felt 
tired,  and  wanted  to  pass  the  night  at  Warsaw.  As  I 
had  told  her  about  my  having  had  inflammation  of  the 
lungs,  I  suspect  she  remained  on  purpose  so  as  not  to  let 
me  travel  in  bad  weather.  It  has  been  raining  since 
morning.  Besides  we  should  not  have  been  able  to  go, 
as  Kromitzki's  affairs  must  be  dealt  with  at  once. 


7  November. 

We  arrived  in  Ploszow  at  seven  in  the  evening.  It  is 
now  midnight,  and  the  whole  house  is  asleep.  Thank  God, 
the  meeting  did  not  excite  her  much.  She  came  out  to 
me  with  hesitating  step,  and  there  was  fear  and  shame 
in  her  eyes  ;  but  I  had  vowed  to  myself  to  meet  her  as 
if  we  had  parted  yesterday,  and  take  care  to  avoid  any- 
thing in  the  nature  of  reconciliation,  anything  to  remind 
her  that  we  had  parted  under  unusual   circumstances. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  405 

When  I  saw  her  coming,  I  put  out  my  hand,  saying 
cheerfully,  — 

"  How  do  you  do,  dear  Aniela  ?  I  have  been  longing 
to  see  you  all,  and  it  made  me  put  off  my  sea  voyage  for 
another  time." 

She  understood  at  once  that  such  a  greeting  meant 
reconciliation,  peace,  and  the  sacrifice  of  myself  for  her 
sake.  For  a  moment  there  passed  across  her  face  a  wave 
of  such  emotion  that  I  felt  afraid  she  would  lose  com- 
mand over  herself.  She  wanted  to  say  something  and 
could  not ;  she  only  pressed  my  hand.  I  thought  she 
might  burst  into  tears,  but  I  did  not  give  her  time,  and 
continued  quickly  in  the  same  tone :  — 

"What  about  the  portrait?  The  head  was  finished 
when  you  left  Vienna,  was  it  not  ?  Angeli  will  not  send 
it  soon,  because  he  said  to  me  it  would  be  his  master- 
piece. He  will  want  to  exhibit  it  in  Vienna,  Munich, 
and  Paris.  It  is  lucky  I  asked  him  to  make  a  copy, 
otherwise  we  might  wait  a  year  before  we  got  it.  I 
wanted  a  copy  for  myself." 

She  was  obliged  to  fall  in  with  my  humor  in  spite  of  all 
the  emotions  that  worked  in  her  breast,  especially  as  my 
aunt  and  Pani  Celina  took  part  in  the  conversation.  In 
this  way  the  first  awkward  moments  were  tided  over. 
Everything  I  said  was  intended  to  divert  our  attention 
from  the  real  state  of  feelings.  I  kept  on  in  the  same 
strain  all  the  evening,  although  at  times  I  felt  the  per- 
spiration breaking  out  on  my  forehead  from  the  effort. 
I  was  still  weak  after  my  recent  illness,  and  all  this  told 
upon  me  terribly. 

During  supper  Aniela  looked  at  my  pale  face  and  the 
gray  hairs.  I  saw  she  guessed  what  I  must  have  suf- 
fered. I  spoke  about  my  Berlin  experiences  almost 
gayly.  I  avoided  looking  at  her  changed  appearance,  so 
as  not  to  let  her  see  that  I  had  noticed  it,  and  that  the 
sight  moved  me  deeply.  Towards  the  end  of  the  even- 
ing I  felt  faint  several  times,  but  I  fought  against  it,  and 
she  did  not  see  anything  in  my  face  except  calmness, 


406  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

serenity,  and  boundless  affection.  She  is  very  keen- 
sighted  ;  she  knows,  perceives,  understands  things  very 
quickly  ;  but  I  fairly  surpassed  myself,  —  I  was  so  nat- 
ural and  so  much  at  my  ease.  Even  if  there  be  still 
any  lingering  doubt  in  her  mind  as  to  my  submission, 
she  lias  none  as  to  my  affection  and  her  being  to  me  the 
same  worshipped  Aniela. 

I  noticed  that  she  seemed  better  and  evidently  began 
to  revive  in  the  warmer  atmosphere.  I  had  indeed  rear 
son  to  be  proud  of  myself,  for  I  brought  at  once  an  ap- 
pearance of  cheerfulness  into  a  house  wliere  dulness  had 
reigned  paramount.  My  aunt  and  Pani  Celina  appreci- 
ated it  keenly.  The  latter  said  frankly  when  I  wished 
her  good-night:  — 

"  Thank  Heaven,  you  have  come.  Everything  looks 
different  at  once  with  you  in  the  house." 

Aniela,  pressing  my  hand,  said  shyly,  "  You  will  not 
go  away  soon,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,  Aniela,"  I  replied  ;  "  I  will  not  go  away  again." 
And  I  went,  or  rather  fled,  to  my  room,  because  I  felt 
that  I  could  bear  the  strain  no  longer.  There  had  been 
such  an  accumulation  of  misery  and  tears  in  my  heart 
during  that  evening  that  I  felt  half  choked.  There  are 
small  sacrifices  that  cost  more  than  great  ones. 


8  November. 
Why  do  I  repeat  to  myself  so  often  that  she  is  as  the 
crown  of  my  head  ?  Because  one  must  love  a  woman 
more  than  life,  consider  her  as  the  crown  of  life,  if  he 
does  not  leave  her  under  circumstances  like  these.  I  am 
perfectly  aware  that  mere  physical  repugnance  would 
have  driven  me  from  any  other  woman  ;  and  since  I  re- 
main here  the  thought  occurs  to  me  again  that  my  love 
must  be  an  aberration  of  the  nerves,  which  could  not  ex- 
ist were  I  a  normally  healthy  specimen  of  mankind. 
The  modern  man,  who  explains  to  himself  everything  by 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  407 

the  word  "  neurosis,"  and  is  conscious  of  all  that  is  going 
on  within  himself,  has  not  even  the  comfort  which  a  con- 
viction of  his  own  faithfulness  might  give  him.  For  if 
he  says  to  himself,  '*  Your  faithfulness  and  perseverance 
are  signs  of  disease,  not  virtues,"  it  adds  one  bitterness 
the  more.  If  consciousness  of  all  these  things  makes 
life  so  much  more  difficult,  why  do  we  take  so  much  care 
to  cultivate  it. 

To-day,  by  daylight,  I  noticed  how  much  Aniela  is 
changed,  and  my  heart  was  torn  at  the  sight.  Her  mouth 
is  swollen,  and  the  once  so  pure  brow  has  lost  its  purity 
and  clearness.  My  aunt  was  right,  —  her  beauty  is  al- 
most gone.  But  the  eyes  are  the  same  as  those  of  the 
former  Aniela,  and  that  is  enough  for  me.  That  changed 
face  only  increases  my  pity  and  tenderness,  and  she  is 
dearer  to  me  than  ever.  If  she  were  ten  times  more 
changed  I  should  love  her  still.  If  this  be  disease,  I  am 
sickening  with  it,  and  do  not  wish  to  get  well  again ;  I 
would  rather  die  of  this  disease  than  of  any  other. 


9  November. 

A  time  will  come  when  under  changed  circumstances 
she  will  recover  her  beauty.  I  thought  of  it  to-day  and  at 
once  asked  myself  what  would  be  our  relations  towards 
each  other  in  the  future,  and  whether  it  would  make  any 
change.  I  am  certain  it  will  not.  I  know  already  how 
it  feels  to  live  without  her,  and  shall  not  do  anything 
which  might  make  her  cast  me  off.  She  will  always  re- 
main the  same  ;  I  have  now  not  the  slightest  doubt  that 
I  am  necessary  to  her  life,  but  I  know  also  that  she  will 
never  call  the  feeling  she  has  for  me  by  any  other  name 
than  great  sisterly  affection.  What  matters  the  name  ? 
it  will  be  always  the  ideal  love  of  one  soul  towards 
another  ;  and  that  is  lawful,  because  permitted  to  brother 
and  sister.  Were  it  otherwise,  she  would  be  in  arms 
against  it  at  once. 


408  WITHOUT   DOGMA. 

In  regard  to  this  I  have  no  illusion  whatever.  I  have 
already  said  that  since  she  changed  our  mutual  relations 
into  ideal  feelings,  they  have  become  dear  to  her.  Let 
it  remain  thus,  provided  they  be  dear  to  her. 


10  November. 
It  is  an  altogether  wrong  idea  that  the  modern  product 
of  civilization  is  less  susceptible  to  love.  I  sometimes 
think  it  is  the  other  way.  He  who  is  deprived  of  one 
lung  breathes  all  the  harder  with  the  remaining  one  ;  we 
have  lost  much  of  what  makes  up  the  sum  of  life,  and 
are  endowed  instead  with  a  nervous  system  more  highly 
strung  and  more  sensitive  than  that  of  our  ancestors.  It 
is  quite  another  matter  that  a  lack  of  red  globules  in  our 
blood  creates  abnormal  and  unhealthy  feelings,  and  the 
tragedy  of  human  life  rather  increases  therefore  than 
grows  less.  It  is  increased  for  the  very  reason  that, 
whereas  the  former  man  in  his  disappointments  found 
consolation  in  religion  and  social  duties,  the  modern  man 
does  not  find  it  there.  Formerly  character  proved  a 
strong  curb  for  passions ;  in  the  present  there  is  not 
much  strength  in  character,  and  it  grows  less  and  less 
because  of  the  prevailing  scepticism,  which  is  a  decom- 
posing element.  It  is  like  a  bacillus  breeding  in  the  hu- 
man soul ;  it  destroys  the  resistant  power  against  the 
physiological  craving  of  the  nerves,  of  nerves  diseased. 
The  modern  man  is  conscious  of  eyerything,  and  cannot 
find  a  remedy  against  anything. 


11  November. 
There  has  been  no  news  from  Kromitzki  for  some  time ; 
even  Aniela  has  not  heard  from  him.     I  sent  him  a  tele- 
gram to  inform  him  that  a  lawyer  was  coming  out  to  him 
to  set  his  affairs  straight ;  then  I  wrote  to  him,  —  trust- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  409 

ing  to  chance  that  he  may  get  the  letter  ;  for  we  do  not 
know  where  he  is  at  present.  No  doubt  the  telegram  and 
letter  will  find  him  in  time,  but  where  or  when  we  do  not 
know.  The  elder  Chwastowski  has  written  to  his  son ; 
perhaps  he  first  will  hear  something  as  to  how  matters 
stand. 

I  spend  whole  hours  with  Aniela,  with  nothing  to  dis- 
turb us.  Pani  Celina,  who  knows  now  about  Kromitzki's 
position,  asked  me  to  prepare  Aniela  for  any  news  she 
might  be  likely  to  receive.  I  have  already  told  Aniela 
what  I  think  in  regard  to  her  husband's  speculation,  but 
only  from  a  personal  point  of  view.  I  told  her  even  that 
she  ought  not  to  take  it  to  heart  if  he  lost  all  his  money, 
which  after  all  might  be  the  best  thing  that  could  happen 
to  him,  as  then  he  might  be  able  to  settle  to  a  quiet,  prac- 
tical life.  I  set  her  mind  at  rest  as  to  the  money  I  had 
lent  him,  and  said  that  was  all  right ;  I  also  told  her 
something  of  my  aunt's  plans  for  their  future.  She  lis- 
tened with  comparative  calmness  and  without  showing 
signs  of  emotion.  What  most  gives  her  strength  and 
comfort  is  the  consciousness  that  so  many  loving  hearts 
are  near  her.  I  love  her  now  beyond  all  words  ;  she  sees 
it,  —  she  reads  it  in  my  eyes,  and  in  my  whole  manner 
towards  her.  When  I  succeed  in  cheering  her  up,  or  call 
forth  her  smiles,  I  am  beside  myself  with  delight.  There 
is  at  present  in  my  love  something  of  the  attachment  of 
the  faithful  servant  who  loves  his  mistress.  I  often  feel 
as  if  I  ought  to  humble  myself  before  her,  as  if  my  proper 
place  were  at  her  feet.  She  never  can  grow  ugly, 
changed,  or  old  to  me.  I  accept  everything,  agree  to 
everything,  and  worship  her  as  she  is. 


12  November. 

Kromitzki  is  dead  !  The  catastrophe  has  come  upon  us 
like  a  thunderbolt.  God  keep  Aniela  from  any  harm  in 
her  present  state.     To-day  came  a  telegram  to  the  effect 


410  WITHOUT  DOGM.V. 

that,  accused  of  fraud  and  threatened  with  imprisonment, 
he  lias  taken  his  life.  I  should  Lave  expected  anything 
but  that !  Kroniitzki  is  dead  !  Aniela  is  free  !  But  how 
will  she  bear  it  ?  1  have  been  looking  again  and  again 
at  the  telegram,  to  make  sure  I  am  not  dreaming.  I  can- 
not yet  believe  my  own  eyes  ;  but  the  signature,  "  Chwas- 
towski,"  vouches  for  its  truth.  I  knew  it  could  not  end 
well,  but  I  never  suppused  the  end  would  be  so  speedy 
and  so  tragic.     No  !  the  thought  never  crossed  my  mind. 

I  feel  as  if  I  had  received  a  blow  on  the  head.  If  my 
brain  does  not  give  way  now,  it  can  bear  anything.  I 
once  helped  Kromitzki,  and  latterly  I  have  done  what  I 
could  for  him,  consequently  I  have  nothing  to  reproach 
myself  with.  There  was  a  time  when  from  my  whole 
soul  I  wished  him  dead,  —  that  is  true  ;  but  it  is  all  the 
more  to  my  credit  that  I  helped  him  in  spite  of  that. 
And  death  has  overtaken  him,  not  in  consequence  of  any- 
thing I  did,  but  in  spite  of  it.  And  Aniela  is  free  ! 
Strange,  though  I  know  it,  I  cannot  believe  it  altogether. 
I  am  as  if  only  half  conscious.  Kromitzki  to  me  was  a 
mere  stranger,  moreover  the  greatest  obstacle  in  my  way. 
The  obstacle  is  removed,  therefore  I  ought  to  feel  a  bound- 
less joy ;  and  yet  I  cannot,  dare  not  feel  it,  —  possibly 
because  a  fear  of  the  consequences  for  Aniela  is  con- 
nected with  it.  My  first  thought  when  I  received  the 
telegram  was  :  "  What  will  happen  to  Aniela  ?  How  will 
she  bear  the  news  ?  "  God  guard  her  !  She  did  not  love 
the  man,  but  in  her  present  state  a  shock  may  kill  her. 
I  am  thinking  of  taking  her  away  from  here. 

What  a  fortunate  thing  that  I  received  the  telegram 
in  my  own  room,  and  not  in  the  dining-room.  I  do  not 
know  whether  I  should  have  been  able  to  control  my 
features.  For  some  time  I  could  not  recover  myself  from 
the  sudden  shock.  I  then  went  to  my  aunt,  but  did  not 
show  her  the  telegram.     I  said  only  :  — 

"  I  have  had  bad  news  about  Kromitzki." 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

**  You  must  not  be  shocked,  aunty." 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  411 

"  They  brought  him  up  for  trial,  —  is  that  it  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  worse  ;  he  is  brought  up  for  trial,  but  before 
a  higher  tribunal  than  ours." 

My  aunt  winked  with  both  eyes  vigorously. 

"  "VVTiat  do  you  mean,  Leon  ?  " 

I  showed  her  the  telegram.  She  read  it,  and  without 
saying  a  word  went  to  her  prie-Dieu  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands.  After  a  short  time  she  rose  from  her  knees 
and  said :  — 

"  Aniela  may  pay  for  it  with  her  life.  What  is  to  be 
done  ?  " 

"  She  must  not  know  anything  until  after  the  child  is 
born." 

"  But  how  can  we  prevent  it  ?  It  will  be  in  every- 
body's mouth ;  the  papers  will  discuss  it.  How  can  we 
keep  it  from  her  ?  " 

"  Dearest  aunt,"  I  said,  "  there  is  only  one  way.  We 
must  have  the  doctor  here  and  ask  him  to  prescribe  for 
her  a  change  of  air.  Then  I  will  take  her  and  Paul 
Celina  to  Rome.  There  1  can  keep  all  news  from  her. 
Here  it  would  be  difficult,  especially  when  the  servants 
come  to  hear  about  it  ?  " 

"  But  will  she  be  able  to  bear  the  journey  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  it  all  depends  upon  what  the  doctor 
says ;  I  will  send  for  him  at  once." 

My  aunt  agreed  to  my  proposal.  It  was  really  the  best 
thing  to  do  under  the  circumstances.  We  resolved  to 
take  Pani  Celina  into  our  confidence,  in  order  that  she 
might  further  our  plan  of  departure.  I  saw  all  the  ser- 
vants, and  gave  strict  orders  that  all  letters,  papers,  and 
telegrams  should  be  brought  direct  to  my  room,  and  no- 
body approach  the  young  lady  with  any  news  or  gossip 
whatever. 

My  aunt  was  terribly  shocked.  According  to  her 
views,  suicide  is  one  of  the  greatest  crimes  anybody  can 
commit ;  therefore  with  the  pity  for  the  unfortunate 
man,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  horror  and  indignation, 
♦*  He  ought  not  to  have  done  this,"  she  said  over  and  over 


412  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

again,  —  "  especially  now  when  he  expected  to  become  a 
father."  But  I  suppose  he  niiglit  not  have  received  news 
of  that.  During  the  last  few  weeks  he  must  have  been 
in  a  state  of  feverish  anxiety,  travelling  from  one  place 
to  another  as  the  entangled  position  of  his  affairs  drove 
him. 

I  dare  not  condemn  him,  and  will  confess  openly  that 
it  has  raised  the  man  in  my  esteem.  There  are  some 
men  who,  justly  accused  of  fraud  and  wrong-dealing,  and 
sentenced  to  imprisonment,  take  it  easy,  and  pass  their 
time  in  prison  gayly  drinking  champagne.  He  did  not 
do  that,  —  he  preferred  death  to  disgrace.  Maybe  he 
remembered  who  he  was.  I  should  have  less  sympathy 
with  him  if  he  had  made  away  with  himself  merely  be- 
cause he  had  failed  ;  but  I  suppose  even  that  would  have 
been  a  sufficient  motive  for  him  to  do  so.  I  remember 
what  he  said  about  it  at  Gastein.  If  my  love  be  a  neu- 
rosis, then  most  undoubtedly  his  feverish  desire  for  gold 
is  the  same.  When  this  one  aim  went  out  from  his  life, 
this  one  basis  slipped  away  from  under  his  feet,  he  saw 
before  him,  perhaps,  a  gulf  and  a  desert  such  as  I  saw 
when  alone  at  Berlin.  And  what  could  hold  him  back  ? 
The  thought  of  Aniela  ?  He  knew  we  would  take  care 
of  her  ;  and  besides,  —  who  knows  ?  —  perhaps  in  a  dim 
way  he  felt  that  he  was  not  necessary  to  her  happiness. 
I  did  not  think  he  had  it  in  him ;  I  had  not  expected 
from  him  so  much  energy  and  courage,  and  I  confess  that 
I  judged  him  wrongly. 

I  had  put  down  my  pen,  but  take  it  up  again  because  I 
cannot  sleep ;  and  besides,  while  writing  my  thoughts 
flow  more  evenly,  and  I  do  not  feel  my  brain  reeling. 
Aniela  is  free  !  Aniela  is  free  !  I  repeat  it  to  myself  and 
cannot  encompass  the  whole  meaning.  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  go  mad  with  joy,  and  at  the  same  time  I  am  seized 
with  an  undefined  dread.  Is  it  really  true  that  a  new 
life  is  dawning  for  me  ?  What  is  it  ?  Is  it  one  of 
Nature's  tricks,  or  is  it  God's  mercy  at  last  for  all  I  suf- 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  413 

fered,  and  for  the  great  love  I  bear  in  my  heart  ?  Per- 
haps there  exists  a  mj'stic  law  which  gives  the  woman 
to  the  man  who  loves  her  most  in  order  that  a  great, 
eternal  commandment  of  the  Creator  should  be  fulfilled. 
I  do  not  know.  I  have  a  feeling  as  if  I  and  all  those 
near  me  were  carried  away  by  an  immense  wave,  beyond 
human  will  or  huinan  control. 

I  interrupted  my  writing  again,  because  the  carriage  I 
sent  for  the  doctor  has  come  back  without  him.  He  has 
an  operation  on  hand  and  could  not  come,  but  promised 
to  be  here  in  the  morning.  He  must  remain  with  us  at 
Ploszow  until  our  departure,  and  go  with  us  to  Rome. 
There  I  shall  find  others  to  take  bis  place. 

It  is  late  in  the  night.  Aniela  is  asleep,  and  has  no 
foreboding  of  what  is  hanging  over  her,  what  a  complete 
change  in  her  life  has  taken  place.  May  it  bring  peace 
and  happiness  to  her  !  She  deserves  it  all.  Perhaps  it 
is  for  her  sake  God's  mercy  is  showing. 

My  nerves  are  so  overstrung  that  I  start  when  I  hear 
a  dog  barking  in  the  distance,  or  the  watchman's  rattle  ; 
it  seems  to  me  as  if  somebody  were  bringing  news  and 
trying  to  get  to  Aniela.  I  make  an  effort  to  calm  my- 
self, and  explain  away  the  strange  fear  that  liaunts 
me,  by  the  state  of  Aniela's  health  ;  I  try  to  be  convinced 
that  but  for  this  I  should  not  feel  so  uneasy.  I  repeat 
to  myself  that  my  fear  will  pass,  as  everything  passes, 
and  afterwards  there  will  be  the  beginning  of  a  new 
life. 

I  have  to  familiarize  myself  with  the  thought  that 
Kroraitzki  is  no  more.  Out  of  this  catastrophe  springs 
my  happiness,  such  happiness  as  I  dared  not  hope  for ; 
but  there  is  within  us  a  moral  instinct  which  forbids  us 
to  rejoice  at  the  death  of  even  an  enemy.  And  moreover 
in  death  itself  there  is  an  awful  solemnity,  —  those  who 
speak  in  presence  of  it  speak  in  hushed  voices  ;  that  is  the 
reason  I  dare  not  rejoice. 


414  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 


13  November. 


All  my  plans  are  shattered.  The  doctor  came  this 
moruing,  and  after  examining  Aniela,  announced  that 
there  could  be  no  question  of  any  long  journey  for  her, 
as  it  would  be  positively  dangerous.  There  seem  to  be 
some  irregularities  in  her  state.  What  a  torture  to  hear 
his  professional  jargon,  when  every  word  he  utters  seems 
to  threaten  the  life  of  the  beloved  woman.  I  told  the 
doctor  the  position  we  are  in,  and  he  said  that  between 
two  dangers  he  preferred  the  lesser  one. 

What  troubled  and  angered  me  most  was  his  advice  to 
tell  Aniela,  after  due  preparation,  about  her  husband's 
death.  Alas  !  I  cannot  deny  that  from  his  point  of  view 
he  is  right.  "If  you  are  quite  sure,"  he  said,  "that  you 
can  keep  it  from  Pani  Kromitzka  for  some  months  to 
come,  it  would  certainly  be  better  to  do  so  ;  but  if  not,  it 
would  be  advisable  to  prepare  her  mind  and  then  tell 
her ;  for  if  she  receives  the  news  suddenly  there  may  be 
another  catastrophe." 

What  is  to  be  done  ?  I  must  establish  a  quarantine 
around  Ploszow,  not  let  a  paper  or  letter  come  in  un- 
known to  me,  instruct  the  servants  what  to  say,  and  to 
keep  even  their  features  under  command. 

Wliat  an  impression  news  like  this  makes  upon  every 
one  ;  I  had  an  illustration  in  Pani  Celina,  to  whom  we 
had  to  tell  the  truth.  She  fainted  twice,  and  then  went 
off  into  hysterics ;  which  almost  drove  me  frantic,  be- 
cause I  thought  she  would  be  heard  all  over  the  house. 
And  yet  she  was  not  fond  of  her  son-in-law ;  but  she  too, 
I  suppose,  was  mostly  afraid  for  Aniela.  I  am  strenu- 
ously opposed  to  the  doctor's  advice,  and  do  not  think  I 
shall  ever  agree  to  it.  I  cannot  tell  them  one  thing, — 
that  Aniela  did  not  love  her  husband,  and  that  for  that 
very  reason  the  shock  will  be  more  terrible  to  her. 

It  is  not  merely  a  question  of  sorrow  after  the  death 
of  a  beloved  being,  but  of  the  reproaches  she  will  apply 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  415 

to  herself,  thinkiug  that  if  she  had  loved  him  more  he 
might  have  clung  more  to  his  life.  Empty,  trivial,  and 
unjust  reproaches,  for  she  did  everything  that  force  of 
will  could  command,  —  she  spurned  my  love  and  re- 
mained pure  and  faithful  to  him.  But  one  must  know 
that  soul  full  of  scruples  as  I  know  it,  to  gauge  the  depth 
of  misery  into  which  the  news  would  plunge  her,  and 
how  she  would  suspect  herself , —  asking  whether  his  death 
did  not  correspond  to  some  deeply  hidden  desire  on  her 
part  for  freedom  and  happiness  ;  whether  it  did  not  grati- 
fy those  wishes  she  had  scarcely  dared  to  form.  My  hair 
seems  to  rise  at  the  very  thought,  because  it  is  his  death 
that  opens  a  new  life  for  her ;  consequently  it  will  be  a 
twofold  shock,  —  two  blows  to  fall  upon  the  dear  head. 
This,  neither  the  doctor,  my  aunt,  nor  Pani  Celina  can 
understand.  No !  she  ought  not  to  be  told  until  after 
the  event. 

What  a  misfortune  that  she  cannot  go  away !  Here  it 
is  difficult,  almost  impossible,  to  guard  her.  She  will 
read  in  our  faces  what  has  happened.  The  least  word, 
the  least  glance  will  rouse  her  suspicion,  and  she  will 
fancy  all  sorts  of  things.  To-day  she  was  surprised  by 
the  sudden  arrival  of  the  doctor.  Pani  Celina  told  me 
she  had  inquired  why  he  was  sent  for  and  whether  she 
was  in  any  danger.  Fortunately,  my  aunt,  always  ready 
for  any  emergency,  said  that  it  was  the  usual  thing  in 
such  a  case  to  call  in  the  doctor  from  time  to  time. 
Aniela  has  no  experience,  and  believed  her  at  once. 
How  shall  I  be  able  to  persuade  the  servants  not  to  look 
so  mysterious  ?  They  already  guess  that  something  is 
the  matter,  from  ray  warnings  and  cautionings,  and  they 
will  know  all  about  it  in  time.  I  cannot  dismiss  them 
all.  The  frequent  telegrams  are  enough  to  excite  their 
curiosity.  To-day  I  had  another  telegram  from  Chwas- 
towski  at  Baku,  with  the  inquiry  what  he  is  to  do  with 
the  body.  I  replied  that  he  should  bury  it  there  for  the 
present.  I  asked  the  elder  Chwastowski  to  take  it  to 
Warsaw,  and  sent  a  money  order  by  telegraph.     I  do 


416  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

not  know  even  whether  such  an  order  can  be  sent  from 
Warsaw  to  Baku. 

To-day  I  looked  through  the  papers.  In  two  of  them 
there  was  a  paragraph  about  Kromitzki's  death.  If  that 
is  young  Chwastowski's  doing,  he  must  be  mad.  The 
servants  know  everything.  Their  faces  are  such  that  I 
am  surprised  Aniela  does  not  suspect  something.  Dur- 
ing dinner  she  was  cheerful  and  unusually  lively.  The 
doctor's  presence  is  a  great  relief  to  me.  Kromitzki  is 
nothing  to  him.  He  engages  Auiela's  attention,  makes 
jokes,  and  teaches  her  to  play  chess.  Pani  Celina,  on  the 
contrary,  reduces  me  to  despair.  The  merrier  Aniela 
grew,  the  longer  and  more  funereal  became  her  mother's 
countenance.    1  spoke  to  her  about  it  rather  sharply. 


14  November. 

We  are  all  at  Warsaw.  They  told  Aniela  that  hot- 
water  pipes  were  to  be  laid  in  all  the  rooms  at  Ploszow, 
and  so,  to  avoid  the  general  upset  and  discomfort,  we  all 
intended  to  go  to  Warsaw.  The  drive  tired  her  very 
much ;  but  I  am  glad  we  are  here,  for  I  can  rely  upon 
my  servants.  The  house  is  a  little  in  disorder.  A  great 
many  pictures  are  already  unpacked.  Aniela,  in  spite  of 
being  tired,  wanted  to  see  them,  and  I  acted  as  cicerone. 
I  told  her  that  it  was  my  greatest  wish  to  be  at  some 
time  her  cicerone  at  Rome,  and  she  replied,  with  a  shade 
of  sadness :  — 

"  I,  too,  often  dream  of  seeing  Eome,  but  sometimes  I 
think  that  I  shall  never  go  there." 

Her  words  caused  me  a  twinge  of  anguish,  for  I  am 
afraid  of  everything,  even  presentiments,  and  am  ready 
to  see  in  every  word  a  forecast  of  evil. 

"  I  promise  you  shall  go  to  Eome  and  stop  there  as 
long  as  you  like,"  I  replied  cheerfully. 

It  is  strange  how  easily  human  nature  adapts  itself  to 
a  new  position  and  exercises  its  rights.     Involuntarily  I 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  417 

look  upon  Aniela  as   my  own,  and  guard  her  as  my 
property. 

The  doctor  was  right.  We  did  well  to  come  to  War- 
saw, —  firstly,  because  in  case  of  any  sudden  emergency 
there  is  help  at  hand ;  secondly,  we  are  not  obliged  to 
receive  visitors.  At  Ploszow  we  could  not  have  avoided 
that,  as  it  is  impossible  to  turn  away  a  visitor  from  one's 
own  gates ;  and  probably  a  great  many  would  have 
come  with  condolences.  Finally,  at  Ploszow  there  ex- 
isted already  a  mysterious,  heavy  atmosphere,  in  which 
my  efforts  to  give  the  conversation  a  light  and  cheerful 
turn  appeared  unnatural.  I  suppose  this  cannot  be 
avoided  even  here,  but  Aniela's  mind  will  be  occupied 
with  hundreds  of  little  sensations,  and  be  less  observant 
of  any  slight  changes  in  her  surroundings  than  she  would 
be  at  Ploszow.  She  will  not  go  out  often,  and  never 
alone.  The  doctor  orders  exercise,  but  I  have  found 
means  for  that.  Beyond  the  stables  there  is  a  good-sized 
garden  with  a  wooden  gallery  near  the  wall.  I  will  have 
it  glazed,  and  in  bad  weather  Aniela  can  walk  there.  It 
is  a  terrible  strain,  this  continual  anxiety  hanging  over 
our  heads. 


15  November. 

How  did  it  happen  ?  How  the  slightest  suspicion 
could  have  entered  her  head  I  cannot  understand.  And 
yet  it  is  there.  To-day,  during  breakfast,  she  suddenly 
raised  her  eyes,  looked  inquiringly  at  all  of  us  in  turn 
and  said :  — 

"  I  cannot  quite  make  it  out,  but  I  am  under  the  im- 
pression that  you  are  concealing  something  from  me." 

I  felt  myself  growing  pale,  —  Pani  Celina  behaved 
most  fatally ;  only  the  dear  old  aunt  did  not  lose  her 
presence  of  mind  and  at  once  began  to  scold  Aniela  :  — 

"  Of  course  we  are  hiding  something,  and  did  not  like 
to  tell  you  that  we  consider  that  little  head  of  yours 

27  « 


418  WITHOUT   DOGMA. 

a  foolish  one.  Leon  said  yesterday  that  you  would 
never  learn  to  play  chess,  as  you  had  no  idea  about 
combination." 

I  breathed  more  easily,  and  getting  hold  of  the  clue 
began  to  make  fun  of  her.  Aniela  seemed  satisfied  for 
the  moment,  but  I  am  quite  certain  that  we  have  not  dis- 
persed her  suspicion,  and  that  even  my  cheerfulness  may 
have  seemed  artificial  to  her.  My  aunt  and  Pani  Celina 
were  thorouj^'hly  frightened,  and  I  was  in  despair ;  for  I 
saw  how  fruitless  would  be  our  endeavors  so  keep  the 
thing  from  her  altogether.  I  fancy  that  Aniela  suspects 
we  are  keeping  from  her  some  bad  news  about  her  hus- 
band's financial  affairs ;  but  what  will  she  think  if  week 
after  week  passes  and  she  does  not  get  any  letters  from 
him  ?     What  can  we  tell  her ;  how  explain  the  silence  ? 

Towards  noon  the  doctor  came.  We  told  him  what 
had  happened,  and  he  repeated  what  he  had  said  before, 
that  it  would  be  better  to  let  her  know  the  truth. 

"  Naturally  Pani  Kromitzka  will  be  getting  anxious  at 
not  receiving  any  letters,  and  thence  will  draw  the  worst 
conclusions." 

I  still  tried  to  avoid  extreme  measures  and  said  that 
this  anxiety  would  prepare  her  mind  for  the  news. 

''  Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  but  anxiety  prepares  the 
organism  badly  for  an  ordeal  which  even  under  more 
favorable  circumstances  would  not  be  an  easy  thing  to 
bear." 

Perhaps  he  is  right,  but  ray  heart  quakes  with  terror. 
Everything  has  its  limits,  and  so  has  human  courage 
There  is  something  within  me  that  protests  desperately 
against  this,  and  I  am  afraid  of  the  voice  which  says, 
"  No." 

The  ladies  have  almost  made  up  their  minds  to  tell 
her  to-morrow.  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I 
had  no  idea  one  could  be  afraid  to  such  an  extent.  But 
it  is  a  question  concerning  her. 


WITHOUT  DOGilA.  419 


16  November. 
All  was  well  until  evening,  when  suddenly  hemorrhage 
set  in.  And  I  had  said  no !  It  is  three  o'clock  at  night. 
She  has  fallen  asleep.  The  doctor  is  with  her.  I  must 
be  calm  —  1  must.  It  is  necessary  for  her  that  somebody 
in  the  house  should  preserve  his  presence  of  mind  —  1 
must. 


17  November. 

The  doctor  says  that  the  first  ]»hase  of  illness  is  pro- 
gressing according  to  rules.  What  does  that  mean  ? 
Does  it  mean  that  she  will  die  ?  The  fever  is  not  very 
great.  This  seems  to  be  always  so  the  first  two  days. 
She  is  quite  conscious,  feels  out  of  sorts  and  very  weak, 
but  suffers  little.  The  doctor  prepared  us  to  expect  that 
the  fever  would  increase  gradually  up  to  forty  degrees ; 
there  will  be  great  pains,  sickness,  and  swelling  of  the 
feet  —  that  is  what  he  promises  ! 

Let  there  be  'at  once  also  the  end  of  the  world !  0 
God!  if  that  is  to  be  my  punishment,  I  swear  I  will  go 
away,  never  to  see  her  again  in  life,  —  only  save  her ! 


18  November. 
I  have  not  seen  her.  I  sit  at  her  door  almost  bereft  of 
my  senses ;  but  I  do  not  go  in,  because  I  am  afraid  that 
the  sight  of  me  will  make  her  worse  and  increase  the 
fever.  At  times  a  horrible  idea  crosses  my  mind  that  I 
am  going  mad  and  might  kill  Aniela  in  a  fit  of  insanity. 
That  is  the  reason  I  force  myself  to  write,  for  it  seems 
to  me  that  it  is  the  best  way  of  keeping  my  senses  under 
control. 


420  WITHOUT  DOGMA. 

19  November. 
I  heard  her  voice  and  her  moans  through  the  door.  In 
that  ilhiess  the  suffering  is  terrible.  According  to  the 
doctor  it  is  the  usual  sign,  but  to  me  it  seems  blind 
cruelty !  My  aunt  says  she  clings  round  her  neck  and 
her  mother's  and  asks  them  for  help.  And  nothing  can 
be  done,  nothing  !  Continual  sickness,  the  pains  are  in- 
creasing, the  feet  are  quite  swollen.  The  doctor  says 
nothing,  but  that  it  may  turn  out  all  right,  or  may  end 
badly.  I  know  that  without  him  !  The  fever  is  at  forty 
degrees.     She  is  always  conscious. 


20  November. 
I  know  it  now.  Nobody  told  me,  but  I  know  for  cer- 
tain that  she  is  going  to  die.  I  have  all  my  senses  under 
control,  I  am  even  calm.  Aniela  will  die  !  Last  night,  sit- 
ting at  her  door,  I  saw  it  as  clearly  as  I  now  see  the  sun- 
light. A  man  in  a  certain  condition  of  mind  sees  things 
which  other  people  with  less  concentrated  minds  cannot 
see.  Towards  morning  something  passed  within  me 
which  made  me  see  how  it  would  end ;  it  was  as  if  ^ 
veil  had  been  torn  from  my  eyes  and  brain.  Nothing 
now  can  save  Aniela.  I  know  it  better  than  all  the  doc- 
tors. And  that  is  the  reason  why  I  do  not  resist  any 
longer.  What  good  can  it  do  either  to  her  or  to  me  ? 
The  sentence  has  been  pronounced.  I  should  be  blind 
if  I  did  not  perceive  that  some  power  as  strong  as  the 
universe  is  parting  us.  What  this  power  is,  what  it  is 
called,  I  do  not  know.  I  know  only  that  if  I  knelt  down, 
beat  my  head  on  the  floor,  prayed,  and  cried  out  for 
mercy,  I  might  move  a  mountain  sooner  than  move  that 
power.  As  nothing  now  could  part  me  from  Aniela  but 
death,  she  must  die.  This  may  be  very  logical,  but  I  do 
not  consent  to  part  from  her. 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  421 

21  November. 

Aniela  wished  to  see  me.  My  aunt  took  everybody 
out  of  the  room,  thinking  she  wanted  to  recommend  her 
mother  to  my  care,  and  this  was  really  the  case.  I  saw 
my  beloved,  the  soul  of  my  life.  She  is  always  conscious ; 
her  eyes  are  very  bright  and  her  mental  faculties  excited. 
The  pain  has  almost  ceased.  All  traces  of  her  former 
state  have  disappeared,  and  her  face  is  like  an  angel's. 
She  smiled  at  me,  and  I  smiled  back.  Since  yesterday 
I  know  what  is  awaiting  me,  and  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I 
were  dead  already  ;  therefore  I  am  calm.  Taking  my 
hand  in  hers,  she  began  to  speak  about  her  mother,  then 
looked  at  me  as  if  she  wished  to  see  as  much  as  she  could 
of  me  before  her  eyes  closed  forever,  and  said :  — 

"Do  not  be  afraid,  Leon,  —  1  feel  much  better;  but  in 
case  anything  should  happen  to  me  I  wanted  to  leave 
you  something  to  remember  me  by.  Perhaps  I  ought  not 
to  say  it  so  soon  after  my  husband's  death ;  but  as  I  might 
die,  I  wanted  to  tell  you  now  that  I  loved  you  very,  very 
much." 

I  replied  to  her :  "  I  know  it,  dearest ; "  and  I  held 
her  hand  and  we  looked  into  each  other's  eyes.  For  the 
first  time  in  her  life  she  smiled  at  me  as  my  betrothed 
wife.  And  I  wedded  her  by  vows  stronger  and  more  last- 
ing than  earthly  vows.  We  were  happy  at  this  moment, 
though  overshadowed  by  a  sadness  as  strong  as  death.  I 
loft  her  only  when  we  were  told  the  priest  liad  come. 
She  hatl  prepared  rae  for  his  coming,  and  asked  me  not 
to  grieve  at  it ;  she  had  sent  for  him,  not  because  she 
thought  she  was  dying,  but  that  it  might  do  her  good 
and  set  her  mind  at  rest. 

When  the  priest  had  left  I  went  back  to  her.  After 
so  many  sleepless  nights  she  was  tired  and  fell  asleep ; 
she  is  sleeping  now.  When  she  wakes  up  I  will  not 
leave  her  again  until  she  falls  asleep  again. 


422  WITUOUT  DOGMA. 


22  November. 


She  is  very  much  better.  Pani  Celina  is  beside  her. 
suli  with  joy.  1  am  the  only  one  who  knows  what  it  is. 
There  was  no  need  for  the  doctor  to  tell  me  that  it  means 
paralysis  of  the  bowels. 


23  November. 
Aniela  died  this  morning. 


Rome,  5  December. 

I  might  have  been  your  happiness,  and  became  your 
misfortune.  I  am  the  cause  of  your  death,  for  if  I  had 
been  a  different  man,  if  I  had  not  been  wanting  in  all 
principles,  all  foundations  of  life,  there  would  not  have 
come  upon  you  the  shocks  that  killed  you.  I  understood 
that  in  the  last  moments  of  your  life,  and  I  promised  my- 
self I  would  follow  you.  I  vowed  it  at  your  dying  bed, 
and  my  only  duty  is  now  near  you. 

To  your  mother  I  leave  my  fortune ;  my  aunt  I  leave 
to  Christ,  in  whose  love  she  will  find  consolation  in  her 
declining  years,  and  I  follow  you  —  because  I  must.  Do 
you  think  I  am  not  afraid  of  death  ?  I  am  afraid  because 
I  do  not  know  what  there  is,  and  see  only  darkness  with- 
out end ;  which  makes  me  recoil.  I  do  not  know  whether 
there  be  nothingness,  or  existence  without  space  and 
time ;  perhaps  some  midplanetary  wind  carries  the  spirit- 
ual  monad  from  star  to  star  to  implant  it  in  an  ever- 
renewing  existence.  I  do  not  know  whether  there  be 
immense  restlessness,  or  a  peace  so  perfect  as  only 
Omnipotence  and  Love  can  bestow  on  us.  But  since 
you  have  died  tlirough  my  "  I  do  not  know,"  how  could 
I  remain  here  —  and  live  ? 


WITHOUT  DOGMA.  423 

The  more  I  fear,  the  more  I  do  not  know,  —  the  more 
1  cannot  let  you  go  alone ;  I  cannot,  Aniela  mine,  —  and 
I  follow.  Together  we  shall  sink  into  nothingness,  or 
together  begin  a  new  life ;  and  here  below  where  we 
have  suffered  let  us  be  buried  in  oblivion. 


THE  EMD. 


THE     ZAGŁOBA      ROMANCES 

by  Henryk  Sienkiewicz.     Translated  from 
the  Polish  by  Jeremiah  Curtin. 
WITH  FIRE  AND  SWORD 

An  Historical  Novel  of  Poland  and  Russia.  Illustrated. 
Crown  8vo.      $i.50»if/. 

The  first  of  the  famous  trilogy  of  historical  romances 
of  Poland,  Russia,  and  Sweden.  Their  publication 
has  been  received  as  an  event  in  literature,  Charles 
Dudley  Warner,  in  Harper' s  Magazine,  affirms  that 
the  Polish  author  has  in  Zagłoba  given  a  new  crea- 
tion to  literature. 

A  capital  story.  The  only  modern  romance  with  which  it  can 
be  compared  for  fire,  sprightliness,  rapidity  of  action,  swift:  changes, 
and  absorbing  interest  is  "The  Three  Musketeers"  of  Dumas. — 
iVcn)  Tork  Tribune. 

THE  DELUGE 

An  Historical  Novel  of  Poland,  Sweden,  and  Russia. 

A  Sequel  to  *'  With  Fire  and  Sword."    With  map. 

2  vols.      Crown  8vo,      $t,.oo net. 

Marvellous  in  its  grand  descriptions. —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

Has  the  humor  of  a  Cervantes  and  the  grim  vigor  of  Defoe.— 
Boston  Ga%ette. 

PAN  MICHAEL 

An  Historical  Novel  of  Poland,  Russia,  and  the 
Ukraine.  A  Sequel  to  "With  Fire  and  Sword'* 
and  "  The  Deluge."      Crown  8vo.      $\.'^onet. 

The  interest  of  the  trilogy,  both  historical  and  romantic,  is 
splendidly  sustained.^  The  Dial,  Chicago. 

LITTLE,    BROWN,   &    COMPANY,   Publishers 
Boston,   Massachusetts 


QUO  VADIS 

A  Narrative  of  the  Time  of  Nero.  By  Henryk 
Sienkiewicz.  Translated  from  tiie  Polish  by  Jere- 
miah CuRTiN.  Illustrated.  Crown  8vo.  $1.50  net. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  books  of  the  decade.  It  burns 
upon  the  brain  the  struggles  and  triumphs  of  the  early  Church. 

— Boston  Daily  Ad-verther, 

It  will  become  recognized  by  virtue  of  its  own  merits  as  the  one 
heroic  monument  built  by  the  modern  novelist  above  the  ruins  of 
decadent  Rome,  and  in  honor  of  the  blessed  martyrs  of  the  early 
Church. — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

Our  debt  to  Sienkiewicz  is  not  less  than  our  debt  to  his  trans- 
lator and  friend,  Jeremiah  Curtin.  The  diversity  of  the  language, 
the  rapid  flow  of  thought,  the  picturesque  imagery  of  the  descrip- 
tions are  all  his. — Boston  Transcript. 

By  the  same  Author 

THE  KNIGHTS  OF  THE  CROSS 

An  Historical  Romance  of  Poland  and  Germany. 
Translated  from  the  Polish  by  Jeremiah  Curtin. 
Illustrated.      Crown  8vo.      $i.y^net. 

The  construction  of  the  story  is  beyond  praise.  It  is  difficult  to 
conceive  of  any  one  who  will  not  pick  the  book  up  with  eagerness. 

—  Chicago  E-vening  Post. 

A  book  that  holds  your  almost  breathless  attention  as  in  a  vise 
from  the  very  beginning,  for  in  it  love  and  strife,  the  most  thrilling  of 
all  worldly  subjects,  are  described  masterfully. —  The  Boston  yournal: 

Another  remarkable  book.  His  descriptions  are  tremendously 
effective  ;  one  can  almost  hear  the  sound  of  the  carnage  ;  to  the 
mind's  eye  the  scene  of  battle  is  unfolded  by  a  master  artist. —  The 
Hartford  Couranf. 

Thrillingly  dramatic,  full  of  strange  local  color  and  very  faith- 
ful to  its  period,  besides  having  that  sense  of  the  mysterious  and 
weird  that  throbs  in  the  Polish  blood  and  infects  alike  their  music 
and  literature. —  The  St.  Paul  Globe. 

LITTLE,   BROWN,  &   COMPANY,    Publishers 
Boston,  Massachusetts 


WHIRLPOOLS 

A  novel  of  Polish  life.  By  Henryk  Sienkiewicz. 
Translated  from  the  Polish  by  Max  A.  Drezmal. 
izmo.    $1.25  net. 

A  new  novel  by  Sienkiewicz  can  safely  be  rated  as  a  literary 
event  ...  A  book  which  is  much  more  compactly  and  fascinatingly 
written   than  any  other  hitherto  attempted   by  this  great  author. 

— St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat. 

Full  of  brilliant  dialogue  and  keen  dissection  of  human  motives 
besides  showing  the  author  to  be  a  very  close  observer  of  recent 
agrarian  troubles  and  socialistic  politics  in  Poland.  The  translation 
seems  to  be  very  well  done. — Re-vicw  of  Re-vieivs. 

The  story  is  told  with  the  author's  customar\'  power  and  direct- 
ness ;  the  dialogue  is  often  brilliant,  and  a  searching  light  is  shed  on 
the  motives  and  actions  of  an  interesting  group  of  characters  in  the 
development  of  an  absorbing  love  story  to  its  inevitable,  if  not 
quite  satisfactory,  conclusions. —  The  Literary  Digest. 

By  the  same  Author 

IN  DESERT  AND  WILDERNESS 

Translated  from  the  Polish  by  Max  A.  Drezmal. 
l2mo.      $1.25  net. 

This  new  book  by  Henryk  Sienkiewicz,  whom  many  critics 
regard  as  the  greatest  of  living  novelists,  has  to  do  chiefly  with  the 
experiences  of  two  children  in  Egypt  —  a  boy  of  fourteen  and  a 
girl  of  eight.  In  the  opening  chapters  Nell  Rawlinson  and  Stas 
Tarhowski,  the  children  of  two  engineers  connected  with  the  work 
on  the  canal,  are  about  to  join  their  fathers  when  they  are  abducted 
and  carried  off  into  the  desert. 

The  period  of  the  story  is  that  of  the  Mahdist  uprising,  about 
the  rime  of  Gordon's  death,  and  the  Mahdi  and  his  followers  play 
an  important  part  in  this  thoroughly  interesting  and  appealing  story 
of  adventure  in  which  many  well-portrayed  characters  appear. 

LITTLE,    BROWN,  &    COMPANY,  Publishers 
Boston,  Massachusetts 


OTHER  NOVELS  AND  ROMANCES 
by  Henryk  Sienkiewicz.  Translated  from 
the  Polish  by  Jeremiah  Curtin. 

CHILDREN  OF  THE  SOIL 

Crown  8vo.      $1.50  net. 

It  must  be  reckoned  among  the  finer  fictions  of  our  time,  and 
shows  its  author  to  be  almost  as  great  a  master  in  the  field  of  tlie 
domestic  novel  as  he  had  previously  been  shown  to  be  in  that  of 
imaginative  liistorical  romances.  —  The  Dial,  Chicago. 

HANIA,  AND  OTHER  STORIES 

With  portrait.      Crown  8vo.      $\.<^of2et. 

At  the  highest  level  of  the  author's  genius.  —  The  Outlook. 

SIELANKA,  A  FOREST  PICTURE 

And  Other  Stories.     With  frontispiece.     Crown  8vo. 

$1.50  net. 

They  exhibit  the  masterly  genius  of  Sienkiewicz  even  better 
than  his  longer  romances.  They  abound  in  fine  character-drawings 
and  beautiful  descriptions.  —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

ON  THE  FIELD  OF  GLORY 

An  Historical  Romance  of  Poland  in  the  Reign  of 
King  John  Sobieski.      i  2mo.  cloth.      <,i.^o  net. 

WITHOUT  DOGMA 

A  Novel  of  Modern  Poland.      (Translated  from  the 

Polish  by  Iza  Young.)      Crown  8vo.      $1.50  net. 

A  human  document  read  in  the  light  of  a  great  imagination.  — 
Boston  BfiJccr. 

LITTLE,    BROWN,   &   COMPANY,    Publishers 
Boston,   Massachusetts 


CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
University  of  California,  Saji  Diego 

DATE  DUE 

r-i  r-  i-i    f\  C\     lAAH 

DEC  09  i3W 

.        -          1     ..V    w 

OCT  17  1980 

Cl  39 

UCSD  Libr. 

UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LiBRARY  FACILITY 


AA     001  323  597       3 


